Jadie
by NidrianRuuthane
Summary: 5 violent murders. 1 vicious serial killer. 1 prodigial, traumatized witness.[COMPLETE]
1. Potential Witness

**Jadie**

**Author's note:** First of all I just want to take a sec and thank those people who reviewed my first Numb3rs fic, "Halloween." It was my first story and I was really nervous about it, and once I saw all those nice reviews it gave me a nice warm fuzzy feeling  Anyway this is my second fic and all constructive criticism and comments are very much appreciated.

**Summary:** Don and his team face one of their most difficult cases. They can't seem to find any evidence against a violent killer until a lone witness turns up. Can they get the information they need from the traumatized girl before the killer claims any more victims?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Numb3rs characters—blah blah blah—I'm sure you all know the drill.

**WARNING:** This fic contains violence towards children and violence in general. There may be extremely graphic descriptions. (The killer is one sick S.O.B.) If you don't like that sorta thing…you've been warned.

CHAPTER 1: Potential Witness—_"…he was going to be working very late…"_

They had found the girl hidden under a nearby bush at the latest murder scene. How she got there, was yet to be figured out, but to the FBI team, her showing up was like a miracle.

"The Sadist" had been giving the FBI a run for their money; they couldn't find _any _evidence at any of the five crime scenes. Then the potential witness showed up in the form of a ten-year-old girl. The FBI thought they had at least a lead now. Unfortunately, they were disillusioned rather quickly. The girl was apparently drastically traumatized—they couldn't get a single sensible statement out of her.

Special Agent Don Eppes thought all this over, rubbing the ever-deepening crease on his forehead. "The Sadist", as the media had dubbed the killer, was a sick individual. Don thought over each of victims. They had all been tortured and sexually violated with a foreign object (hence the name "Sadist"), and they were all girls between five and eight years of age. Don was repulsed by the savage nature of each of the deaths, and the fact that all the victims were little girls made the case that much harder. Don and his team had been astounded to find the potential witness at the scene. At first they had thought that it was a coincidence that the child had been at the scene, but upon inspection, the girl had scars that were nearly identical to the wounds on the victims. The most baffling question to it all however, was why wasn't she dead? And how did the girl get away from the killer? She was older than the age range of the other victims and it threw a wrench in their profile of the killer. _Not that we had a great profile to begin with_, Don mused to himself.

Don turned his attention to the conference room. Megan Reeves, the FBI psychologist, had spent at least three hours trying to get something intelligible from the girl, to answer some of their questions, but it all seemed to be in vain. Don sighed in frustration. He watched Megan through the door as she tried to cajole the girl out of her near catatonia. Megan sighed, pushed her chair away from the table forcefully and walked up to Don.

"It's no use," Megan let out exasperatedly, "it's like she's afraid of me…she didn't appear to be frightened by the agents at the scene and now she's not responding to me at all! I just don't understand." Megan rubbed her forehead, unwittingly mimicking Don's earlier action.

"Maybe she doesn't like you." Don half-joked, even as a more lucrative reason entered his mind.

"Don…" Megan started to say, annoyed.

"No, I'm being serious. Maybe in some way you remind her of the killer." Sudden insight flashed in Don's head. Finally, they were getting somewhere! The girl had helped whether she realized it or not.

"Our killer is a woman!" Don exclaimed, "Wait—before you tell me its not possible, think about it." Don rushed on before Megan could open her mouth and interrupt him.

"A woman serial killer is very rare, I know, but you said yourself, the girl wasn't afraid of the agents who brought her in—both agents who were _men_." Megan looked skeptical.

"Look," Don continued, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Let me go sit in there with her for awhile and see if I can't get any information out of her and…" Don held a finger up as Megan opened her mouth in disagreement, "…if I can't get anything out of her in couple hours, I'll admit that I'm wrong and I won't mention the woman killer idea again without further evidence."

"Am I allowed to talk now?" Megan wondered aloud sarcastically. Don remained silent as Megan gave him a penetrating glare.

"Ok, fine," she conceded with a shake of her head, "but I really don't see how you're going to find out any more than I did."

"Why don't you go home and get some sleep," Don said, putting his hand on Megan's shoulder, "You look like hell."

"Thanks Don," Megan shot back, too weary to be amused, "You have a wonderful way with people you know that? Call me if she does say anything enlightening."

"You'll be the first to hear anything, I promise." Don held up his hand like he was being sworn in before a jury. A wry chuckle escaped from Megan as she walked away. Don let out a heaving sigh. It was still early evening but he had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be working very late. He'd have to call his dad and let him know that he wasn't going to be coming over after all.

He turned towards the conference room. The girl hadn't moved at all during the entire conversation that he'd had with Megan. All he wanted to do, he thought, was go over to his brother's house, eat dinner with his father and Charlie and then sleep for a week. However the gory images of the victims flashed through Don's head, and reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Besides, he wouldn't want to wake up to a phone call informing him of the latest victim. No, Don thought, there is truly no rest for the weary.

"Ok, kiddo" Don muttered under his breath, "Let's see if I can do better than the person who actually knows about psychology."

Don stepped into the room, having no idea just what he was getting himself into.

**Author's additional note**: AHH! How's that for a first chapter? I'm not sure how long I want to make this fic just yet. And just so everyone knows, this will be mainly a Don-centric fic, some Charlie (but no Amita…sorry guys I'm not an Amita fan). I'm terrible at math and I hate research so I'm not sure I could pull off a convincing Charlie. Also probably no romance either unless it's with an OC. Hope I haven't just discouraged half the people who might have read this from reading it. Please R&R!


	2. Those Eyes

**Jadie**

**Summary:** Don and his team face one of their most difficult cases. They can't seem to find any evidence against a violent killer until a lone witness turns up. Can they get the information they need from the traumatized girl before the killer claims any more victims?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Numb3rs characters—if I did they'd be doing my homework.

**WARNING:** This fic contains violence towards children and violence in general. May be extremely graphic descriptions. (The killer is one sick S.O.B.) If you don't like that sorta thing…you've been warned.

CHAPTER 2: Those Eyes—"…_ have seen more--know more--than any child's should…"_

Don walked into the conference room casually, taking his hands out of his pockets. He wanted to appear as non-threatening as he could possibly be. He glanced around the room. It was a long, wide room, with nothing but a large table and some basic chairs. The girl sat in one of the chairs on the side of the table, in the very middle of the room. Don walked up slowly to the child.

"Hey," Don half-whispered, as he leaned over, trying to get the girl to look at him. "Can I sit here?" Don asked pointing at the chair next to the girl. At first it appeared as if he wasn't going to get a response, then, in a fleeting moment that Don could've almost sworn he imagined, the girl gave him a brief, measuring glance, and a very small, almost imperceptible nod. Don smiled inwardly. He had already gotten further than Agent Reeves.

"Ok, thanks." Don spoke reassuringly as he slowly slid into the seat next to her. Don put his hands on the table, interlacing his fingers, and he took a moment just to take in her appearance and observe her.

She was ten years old, or at least that's what they figured. Don wasn't sure himself. To him, the girl was so small that he thought at a glance that she was only seven or eight, at the very oldest. However the doctors that had looked her over had estimated her age to be ten and hell, what did Don know about figuring someone's age? She had pale skin, with an almost translucent look, and her bones were prominently visible. _The doctors wanted her on some kind of diet,_ Don recalled, _She was pretty malnourished._ She had long black hair that was in a state of utter dishevelment, but she wouldn't let anyone touch it with a brush. What struck Don the most about her face, however, wasn't the paleness of her skin, her prominent bones, or the stark contrast of her dark hair, but rather her eyes. _Those eyes,_ Don thought, _have seen more—know more—than any child's should. _They were a brilliant shade of green, and currently, those eyes were fixed to the table. Blank, unmoving, the girl looked like a porcelain statue, poised and fragile. She wore an oversized, tan, long sleeve shirt that surely had seen better days; the ends of the sleeves were frayed and there were some stains that resembled dried blood and Don tried not to cringe. He knew that at the hospital, they tried to give her other clothes to wear, but she'd put up a fit and wouldn't wear anything but what she had had on. She wore also slightly large blue jeans and ragged tennis shoes that maybe, had once been white, but were now a faded, dull color, like they had been caked in mud so many times that they were permanently stained.

"So…" Don started after the long silence, "Would you tell me your name?" He figured that her name would be a harmless topic, and a good place to start. After all, they couldn't keep referring to her as 'the girl' or 'the witness.' Don watched as her eyes drifted from the table up to the ceiling, over to the wall, wandering aimlessly as if she were searching for her name in the architecture of the building—as if it held all the secrets. Don waited patiently until finally, her eyes drifted sideways over to him.

He felt like she was turning him inside out with those eyes.

"Danny called me Jadie." Soft and light, her voice was somehow ominous and unnaturally child-like. It hadn't sounded like the voice of a ten-year-old, rather it sounded like a four-year-old during a thunderstorm, wary of the dark, and of bogeymen. Her eyes had been fixed on Don when she had spoken, but now they drifted back to the table, then to the ceiling, where they fixated.

"My name is Don. It's nice to meet you," Don said, recovering from the oddity of her speech. "Can I ask who Danny is?" He continued gently.

Her eyes found him again.

"You can ask," she nearly whispered, "but I might not tell," she asserted a little louder. Don felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise. This girl, _Jadie,_ he mentally corrected, was an eerie child. She sounded younger but her actual word choice, her tone, was, well, incredibly adult-like.

"Jadie," Don spoke a little firmer, attempting to dispel the unsettling feeling he was experiencing, "Who's Danny?"

"A ghost, a dream, a nightmare." Jadie whispered rapidly, almost frantically. Her eyes immediately glued back to the table. Her hands gripped the edge of her chair tightly. Don felt as if he were on the edge of some precipice and that if he found the right question, he just might be allowed a glimpse of what was truly in the darkness beneath him. He racked his mind. If he said the wrong thing, he might not find out who Danny really was, and he had an unusually strong feeling that this Danny person was important.

"Do you like Danny?" Don questioned. Somehow it seemed like the only safe question to ask. Don watched with increasing amazement as a single tear fell from each Jadie's eyes and she opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, opened it again, and closed. Open, close, cough, clear the throat, open, close. She couldn't seem to find the words. There was a long pause. Don waited, giving her the time that she seemed to desperately need to find the words she wanted.

"He—was very—nice to me." Jadie finally spoke, haltingly, "No one was ever—that—nice –to me." Jadie's eyes roamed the room, frantically, as if she were a trapped animal, cornered, helpless.

"Hey now," Don murmured comfortingly. He risked a hand on her small shoulder. Nothing more. Just a small show of comfort. At the hospital, Jadie had made it quite clear that she didn't like to be touched—not a surprise really—and Don didn't want to push his luck. _At least now I know why she is more comfortable around men,_ Don thought, _He must have been her protector or at least her friend. Something…_ Don watched Jadie, as she looked more lost. More child-like—gone was the eerie feeling Don had experienced earlier. She looked so lost, so alone. Don's heart ached for the small girl. Her hands came up from the chair and she sat them in her lap. She stared at her palms as if maybe they would tell her whatever it was that she wanted to hear. Don was sure, there was _something_ that she wanted to hear, but he just didn't know what it was yet.

"What happened to Danny?" Don queried softly, "You said he was a ghost, did he…" Don trailed off, not sure of the route he was taking.

"He tried to help me," Jadie whispered uncertainly, "he didn't want me hurt but…" she trailed off, fear, for the first time, pervaded her porcelain features.

"But…?" Don encouraged, giving her shoulder a slight reassuring squeeze.

"He shouldn't have!" Jadie half-yelled, startling Don. She turned towards him with ferocity and a frantic quality that was nearing panic. "He didn't understand! Nobody does! She's…" Jadie paused struggling for the word, "…_evil_." She finished in a hushed whisper, then her eyes widened in horror and she clapped her hands over her mouth like she'd said something she would have rather not revealed. Don stared. He was almost one-hundred-percent certain that he was right; that the killer was indeed a woman.

As he looked at the mortified Jadie, the question now entered his mind: _Where the hell do I go from here?_

Please R&R!


	3. Maybe

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Numb3rs characters—although, I must say that if I did that would be really cool 

**WARNING:** This fic contains violence towards children and violence in general. There may be extremely graphic descriptions. (The killer is one sick S.O.B.) If you don't like that sorta thing…consider yourself warned…

CHAPTER 3: Maybe—"…_maybe it wasn't the best thing…"_

The telephone on the wall in the Eppes' family home sprung to life with a rather loud obnoxious ring, startling one Professor Charles Eppes from his work and causing his father Alan to look up from his newspaper.

"You want to get that, or should I?" Alan asked his youngest son. Charlie looked up distracted.

"Uhh, could you…" Charlie waved his hand in the air, completely absorbed in his work.

"I'll get it then." Alan spoke decisively, inwardly smiling at Charlie's distracted nature. Alan rose from the armchair as a second ring called out.

"Coming, Coming…" Alan half-mumbled to himself.

"Hello?" Alan answered. His eldest son's voice greeted him from the receiver.

"Hey dad! I thought for a minute that maybe you weren't home…"

"No, I'm just getting a little slow, that's all." Alan half-smiled.

"Ha, ha, dad. Look, about dinner tonight…" Alan caught a familiar note in Don's voice and tried not to feel to disappointed. Don was, after all, an FBI agent and a workaholic to boot.

"You aren't going to be able to make it are you?"

"No, I'm sorry dad. I'll come over for dinner after this case is done and over with." Don's weary sigh could be plainly heard by Alan.

"It's not a dangerous case is it? Are you sleeping and eating enough? When you get a tough case, you get like Charlie—forgetting to eat, sleep…" Alan spoke worriedly, his paternal instincts kicking in full force. Charlie looked up from his work.

"Dad…" Don's voice came over the receiver, clearly exasperated.

"Hey Dad," Charlie spoke suddenly, "Ask Don if he needs any help on the case, I could use a break from my current project…" Charlie trailed off, almost hopefully. He loved working with Don. Alan knew that, but it didn't do anything to quell his worries.

"Don don't 'Dad' me and Charlie wants to know if you need his help at all." There was a long pause. Alan could almost hear Don debating the idea in his head. _Must be a reason Don doesn't want Charlie to get involved_, Alan thought,_ but he must need his help if he's taking this long to decide…_

"Uhh…you know what?" Don spoke suddenly, "Tell Charlie I don't need his help right now, but I might later on. Ok?"

"Alright Don, I'll tell Charlie that."

"Thanks Dad, I'll see you as soon as the case has at least some progress."

"Ok Don, just be careful…I'll see you soon."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye Donnie." Alan hung up the phone.

"So?" Charlie asked expectantly.

"Don says he doesn't need your help right now…"

"Oh…" Charlie said, obviously disappointed.

"…But he might need your help later on in the case." Alan finished.

"Really?" Alan nodded and Charlie perked up. He really did love working with his older brother.

"So," Alan continued, "What sounds good for dinner?"

Don hung up the phone, frustrated. He could use Charlie's help. He never liked to admit it, but his younger brother was extremely helpful in the FBI line of work. Don thought again of the gory and violent deaths—he'd made the right decision. Charlie didn't need to see those photos. And Charlie would ask to see them, to prove that he could handle it. But Don knew for a fact that after Charlie had looked at the photos on one of the other murder cases, he'd had nightmares. And those photos had nothing on the ones from the "Sadist" case. Don was, in a way, glad that Charlie was so mortified by the graphic pictures. Charlie didn't need to be hardened against violence and Don didn't really want him to be. Maybe it wasn't the best thing. Maybe it would be better if Charlie could handle violence more. But the big brother inside Don violently disagreed, and would fight to keep Charlie sheltered from the gore for as long as he possibly could.

Don was just going to have to figure this one out on his own.

Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than the rest. It's kind of an in between chapter. I'm working out a couple different ways this could go and I'm trying to figure out which to go with. :P R&R!


	4. Drawings

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Numb3rs characters…(slightly depressed sigh)…I wish I did though…. but then again—who wouldn't?

**WARNING:** This story has violent content!(ok not so much in this chapter…but its coming!)

CHAPTER 4: Drawings—" _Dear God, the things she _**drew**_…those _**drawings**_…_"

"I can't believe you actually got anything out of the girl!" Megan half growled. Don gave her a look over his shoulder that clearly said '_Well, I told you so'_ as he walked in the entrance to the FBI building.

"Don't _even_ look at me that way." Megan said sternly. Don smirked.

"As a matter of fact," she continued, "Don't look at me at _all_." Don chuckled a little as they got on the elevator. He hadn't much to laugh about lately. They had had another murder and everyone was trying unnaturally hard to be cheerful in the vain hope to dispel some of the anxiety going around the office. No one wanted to hear about another victim.

So Don did his best to annoy Megan, and maybe get a laugh or two before looking at the photos of the latest scene. He snapped his chewing gum loudly and grinned at an irritated Megan, looking at her from over the rim of his sunglasses. She shook her head at him.

"You're trying too hard, you know." Megan stated matter-of-factly. Don's grin faded.

"Can you blame me for trying?" He shrugged. "I'll admit…" Don sighed, "…This case is getting to me a little bit." A small 'ding' was issued from the elevator, signaling that they had reached their floor. They stepped out as the doors opened. The office was abuzz with activity. No one was idle.

"No I suppose I can't blame you," Megan sighed tiredly. "I just can't get my head around this killer." Megan gestured frustrated. She rubbed her forehead, an unconscious indicator to Don that the case was getting to her as well. Don waited for Megan to gather her thoughts.

"So," Megan picked up suddenly, "Where is our witness?"

"Well," Don started to say as his cell phone rang. Distracted, he looked to see who it was.

"She's in protective custody," Don frowned as he looked at the caller id of his cell. "And speak of the devil…" he muttered. Megan watched with concern as Don answered his cell phone and as his frown deepened.

"Ok, I'll be right there." Don hung up his phone.

"What's up?" Megan asked as she followed Don out of the office door.

"They say that the witness is having some kind of fit, freaking out or something." Don headed towards the elevator, Megan right on his heels. "Look," he said turning around towards Megan, "Stay here and look at the info on the new victim, I'm going to go find out what's going on." Megan started to protest, but Don was already getting into the elevator.

"Call me if you find out anything important!" He said as the doors closed.

"Sure, will do." Megan muttered to herself swinging back towards the conference room.

Don pulled up to the small terra-cotta building that served as a safe house that was just a few miles away from the FBI building. He parked his SUV in the driveway, and had barely gotten out of the vehicle when the agent in charge of the supervision of the witness came flying out of the front door.

"What's going on?" Don demanded as soon as he saw the agent come out.

"I don't know!" the younger man exclaimed, flustered. He was a new agent, just transferred and as green as could be. "She was doing just fine then she asked for paper and something to draw with, so we gave her some crayons and a pad of paper and she went into the back room. When we checked on her an hour later…" the young man paused, his eyes a little wild. _He's about ready to panic…_Don thought with some amazement.

"She drew these pictures…" the agent's voice cracked. "Dear God, the things she _drew_…those _drawings_…" the agent's face contorted.

"It's ok," Don soothed the younger agent, "Just show me where she is." The young agent—_Agent Richards_, Don thought, nodded and Don followed him into the building. Once inside, Richards pointed to the back bedroom where another slightly wild eyed agent stood guard with a rather worried, and somewhat perplexed expression on his face. Don opened the door and stepped in through the door. He immediately sucked in a huge breath; his eyes were assaulted with images straight from a nightmare.

Don wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't anything like what he saw.

Word from the author: OK that was a really short chapter I know. But it's another one of those in-between chapters. It's definitely going to pick up pace in the next chapter. All input is welcome. (I really like constructive criticism hint hint)


	5. Lost Innocence

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own numb3rs…all I own is a bunch of clutter and an army of dust bunnies that live under my bed.

**WARNING:** MENTIONED VIOLENCE! MILD SWEARING!

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE**: First: THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I was a little insecure when I started this story but I will definitely continue with more confidence:-)

OK in this chapter I might be going out on a limb a little—I'm eliminating any involvement of Child Services which in real life would be most likely involved in something like this (I really don't know what the process would be and I'm too lazy to do research—yes I'll admit it. So for the sake of ease and the way this plot bunny goes in my head, C.S. are not involved.) Also just so you're all forewarned Jadie has a freak out in this chapter and she's says some things that are possibly, and most likely beyond that of an average 10 yr old. I'll try to clarify why this is in future chapters, so don't all go for the throat at once :-)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER 5: Lost Innocence—" …_she's a serpent in the garden_…"

"Sweet Jesus." Don half whispered to himself. When he'd seen Agent Richards' wild eyes, he'd thought it was just a greenie overreacting. But this…this was _insane._

On the entire back wall, from ceiling to floor, was _covered_ with drawings. And these weren't the typical ten-year-old drawings. They were violent. They were graphic. They were like something from a nightmare.

Jadie sat in the middle of the room; her eyes were fixed intently on the notepad in front of her. Her small arm was moving in sure confident strokes and she looked as if not even hell itself, raging around her, could stop her from drawing.

The drawings.

Don took a couple steps into the room and then stopped. He could feel his lower jaw dropping, ever so slightly.

There were drawings of little girls screaming.

There were drawings of little girls being tortured.

There were drawings of little girls dying.

There were drawings of little girls dead.

All in flawless, disturbing, realism; Don looked at the illustrations, he took a step back and gasped. He'd been looking at the pictures individually, but all together, _all together_, they were a self-portrait of Jadie.

It was a drawing of a little girl crying, covered in blood.

He turned to the two silent agents behind him.

"I'm going to take her back to the FBI building." Don half whispered, "Get these together and bring them to me ASAP." The wide-eyed agents behind him nodded.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don held Jadie's hand and led her through the office, ignoring the eyes of the other agents, and the girl's blank stare. Don took her to the currently empty conference room, and saw Megan sitting there.

"What…?" Megan began, but Don just shook his head, glanced out of the room sending Megan the wordless '_I'll talk to you out there_' look. Megan nodded, confusion written plainly across her face. She winced as she walked by Jadie; there was no way she could miss the tensing of the child's shoulders.

"Ok, Jadie," Don started softly, leading her to one of the chairs, "C'mon, sit down." She sat obediently. Don leaned against the table, looking down at her. His mind was racing. _Shitshitshitshitshit. _He was about to ask Jadie about the drawings when he happened to glance out in the hall and saw Megan staring him down. _I better go tell her what's up…_Don thought reluctantly.

"Wait here." He told Jadie. _Like she's going to go anywhere…_Don shook his head as he stepped out of the room.

He'd barely done so when Megan was suddenly next to him.

"What the hell is going on?" She whispered harshly.

"I don't really know." Don answered truthfully. "She drew all these," Don struggled for the right word, "_graphic _drawings and each and every one of them had one of our vics in it." Megan looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Are you sure they were our vics?" Megan asked, incredulous and doubtful.

"Well, let's just say Jadie is quite the artist." Don replied in a somewhat restrained manner. "The agents who were over there are gathering the drawings and bringing them over as soon as possible."

"Just how many drawings are there?" Megan frowned. Don put his hands on his hips and looked around frustrated.

"A lot." Don's shoulders sagged, right as Agents David Sinclair and Colby Granger walked up.

"Hey guys." Don spoke wearily.

"Jeez, don't act glad to see us or anything." Colby muttered.

"Why's the girl here? I thought she was in protective custody?" David said, glancing into the conference room.

"There's been an incident, or something like that…" Don hesitated, "She drew a lot of pictures, violent pictures, and they are all relevant to the murders." He looked at his team, meeting each and every one of them eye to eye.

"This girl definitely witnessed the first five murders first hand." Silence greeted that statement. Don ran his fingers through his hair.

"So," he continued, "tell me about the latest victim."

"Not much to tell, boss." Colby shrugged. "Same cause of death as all the others—she bled out."

"Her name is Laura Fields." David interjected. "She went missing about two days ago and turned up under a tree in the city park. Jogger called it in and the forensics team is checking right now to see if the killer has slipped up and left some evidence." David reported.

"Ok good." Don nodded absent-minded. "Keep me updated," he paused, "As a matter of fact, David, why don't you go to the forensics lab and wait on their findings. I want you to call me as soon as you find out whether or not there is anything we can use." David nodded.

David almost made it to the elevator when a frantic Agent Richards came flying out of the doors, almost plowing over David in the process.

"What the hell's the matter with you Richards?" Colby yelled as he, Don and Megan ran up to the young man.

"Brian…!" he gasped, his eyes roaming around frantically, glazing over. Little alarms went off in Don's head. Something was not right.

"What happened?" Don grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, pulling him around to face him. _Brian…that must have been the other agent…_Don wasn't familiar with all the agents in the building but he was at least able to piece together this bit of information. Agent Richards' jaw clenched when Don asked him what happened and he looked like he was going to pass out.

And then he did.

"What the hell?" Colby spoke, voicing everybody's confusion. Don had caught the man, and laid him on the floor, checking him for wounds.

"He's doesn't appear to be hurt…" Don trailed off. _Just what the hell happened_? Don snapped from his thoughts. "Someone get a medic in here, don't just stand around and stare! Move it!" Don barked. Just then, a small voice spoke from the back of the room.

"She's going to find me." Everyone turned to see Jadie, her eyes filled with tears, looking absolutely terrified. Don stood up and was about to lead the girl back to the conference room and ask her what she meant but Colby's nerves had been frayed by the case and now they broke at the girl's seemingly cryptic sentence.

"Look, kid, I'm not in the god-damn mood to hear your creepy…whatever...so just go back to the conference room while we take care of one of our guys OK!" Colby yelled.

"You don't understand!" Jadie shrieked.

"Hey honey it'll be ok…"

"Calm down…"

"Whoa hold on…" They all started to speak, but they were cut off.

"You don't know what she's like!" Jadie continued, apparently oblivious to their placations.

"They screamed! Don't you get it! They screamed for their mothers, fathers, their brothers and sisters! But none of them ever came to save them! Their screams were the sought after damnation that evil evil _thing_" Everyone froze in horror as the girl screeched.

"And when their family didn't come to save them they screamed for God, as if he could save them, they prayed 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil!' But they did fear! And when they screamed in terror, that evil woman, that evil _thing_ thought they were so beautiful in their perfect fear, in their terror! And she slaughtered them! Slaughtered them like lambs! Slaughtered them as they screamed! She's a serpent in the garden, corrupter of innocence and innocence was lost! Gone!" Tears were streaming down the girl's face now, no one moved, no one breathed. Don felt like his heart was going to explode.

"And then they lie dying," Jadie stopped screaming now, her voice was a hoarse croak, filled with sorrow and pain. "And as they lie dying, finally, _finally_, they cried for me, because I was the only one left, the only one there. And all I could _do_," her voice filled with anguish, "was to _hold _them, hold them as best I could, until all the life went out of their eyes. Oh, I held them until their eyes held no soul!" She screamed then. A wordless cry on of pure and utter anguish and depression, and still no one moved.

"As they exhaled their last breath," Jadie continued, tears pouring down her face, her pale face covered in red blotches, "I kissed them on the forehead, I kissed them goodbye and I could taste their blood on my lips and _I am damned because I couldn't help them_!" She ended in an unearthly shriek that rose into a wail, like a wounded animal that feels death is near. Jadie fell to her knees.

"She'll find me, she'll find me, she'll find me…" Jadie whispered over and over rocking herself, repeating her warped mantra over and over.

Don felt as if time had stopped.

"Everyone," Don spoke suddenly and loudly, startling most of the gathered FBI personnel. "Get Richards downstairs and get him some medical assistance and someone please find out what happened to the other agent that was at the safe house! Move it people!" Don ordered. Instantly people started moving. Don walked over and knelt next to Jadie, who had dropped her mantra in favor of humming some melodic and haunting tune that Don didn't recognize.

"That sounds like this Celtic song I heard once…" Megan spoke from behind him. Don glanced back at her mildly surprised.

"Since when do you listen to 'Celtic' music?"

"Well," Megan huffed defensively, "I didn't say that I listen to it, just that I _heard _it." Don turned back towards the girl, poised and fragile, oblivious to the world around her.

"What are you going to do with her?" David asked.

"Not sure yet," Don sighed and turned towards David, "Go ahead and get down to the forensics lab, I still want to know if they've found anything." After a moment of hesitation, David nodded and got on the elevator. After a minute Don made up his mind.

"Granger, go find out what the deal is with Richards and what happened at that safe house, and while you're at it see if you can find the pictures Jadie drew. Megan why don't you go with him?"

"Don," Megan started, " What are you going to do with the girl?" She spoke softly.

"Well she can't go back to the safe house," Don sat back on his heels, looking at Jadie who was still humming. "I'll take her to my apartment. I don't want my Dad or Charlie involved in this case." Don said sharply when Megan looked about to ask the pertinent question 'why not Charlie's house?' Megan just nodded and started towards the elevator. Colby hesitated.

"Listen, boss, I…"

"Don't worry about it Colby," Don interrupted him. "That was going to come out sooner or later." He turned his head slightly towards Colby, "Go on." Don motioned with his head towards Megan and the elevator. Colby hesitated, wanting to say more, but in the end, he nodded resigned and went with Megan in the elevator.

Don ignored the stares from the people left in the office and after a few minutes, he held out his hand to the complacent Jadie, who was still humming.

"Just me and you, kiddo." Don murmured as the small girl took his hand, and together they walked out of the office.

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NOTE: How was that? OK the celtic song that was mentioned didn't include any words but in my head (in case any of you were curious) it was a song by Loreena McKinnett called 'Moon Cradle' (I don't own it...yadda yadda yadda) R&R! Let me know what you liked/disliked ect. ect. And whether or not you think there is anything that can be improved. (I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.) Again, Thanks to all my reviewers!


	6. Phone Call

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Nub3rs or any of its characters…. blah blah blah…I have the strangest feeling that we've been through all this before…

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CHAPTER 6: Phone Call—" …_ his cell phone rang, shattering the fragile silence_…"

Don drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while waiting at a red light. The rain was pouring down in buckets from the sky, and the thunder and lightning boomed and flashed across the dark and gloomy sky. Don tried to calm himself by listening to the steady _swish swish_ of the windshield wipers, but it was in vain; He was wound up tighter than a box spring.

The light turned green and Don took off, and then a short distance later he whipped across traffic and pulled into the parking lot of a nearby shopping center.

He parked the car, while Jadie looked at him, not in confusion, but rather as if she knew the question Don wanted to ask, and was merely waiting to hear Don voice it aloud. _What am I thinking?_ Don thought as he tried to gather all the words, ideas, images and thoughts that all seemed to be running rampant in his mind. He couldn't take care of a kid. Hell, he didn't know the first thing about taking care of kids. But this girl, _this girl…_Don sighed. She reached out to him and he'd be damned before he let her down. On the other hand, she wasn't going to have _that_ easy of a time; he wanted some answers.

"You are smarter than you let on—you understand more than you let us think, don't you?" Don asked Jadie, even though it was really more of a statement. Don merely wanted confirmation. She looked at him, hesitation plain in her expression. Don couldn't comprehend what the big deal was; if she was smarter than a normal ten year old, why not just admit it and be done with it?

Then, once again, like the day in the conference room, she gave him the tiniest of nods, acknowledging what he said and that he was correct. Don nodded to her in response, and though he said nothing else, his mind began to whir—_she'll need to be tested; her ability to verbalize is definitely not ordinary…maybe after the case is wrapped up I can set up an appointment with a testing agency like the one Charlie went to when he was a kid…_Don shook himself out of that line of thinking. _I'm acting like she isn't going to be immediately whisked away once this is over with…like I'm going to spend time with her after, which just wouldn't be possible…_a small voice in the back of Don's whispered that it could be otherwise but he repressed that quickly. _I can't get a head of myself; there's still a killer to be caught…_

Don turned toward Jadie who had been patiently waiting for Don; he was about to say something but at that moment his cell phone rang, shattering the fragile silence.

"Eppes" Don answered, just a little annoyed.

"Don, it's Granger."

"What's up?" Don spoke expectantly, hoping for some answers of what happened at the safe house.

"Don…" on the other end of the line Don could hear Colby hesitating._Tthat can't mean anything good…_

"Don," Colby began again, "Agent Brian Carlos is dead."

"What?" Don exclaimed, "What the hell happened?"

"We aren't sure," Colby said, with more than just a little frustration in his voice, "We do know that Alan Richards was drugged, possibly even poisoned with something…he still hasn't woken up…" Don swore creatively into the phone.

"I can sympathize with that," Colby said wryly after Don finished his tirade.

"The drawings?" Don asked.

"Gone," Granger said, anger simmering just below the surface could be heard in his voice; "We did find a list of names hidden under the mattress in the back bedroom though…" Don looked over at Jadie.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, has four cities listed with names underneath and get this: The last city is LA and the five vics are listed, not including Laura Fields."

"Jadie wrote it then." Don continued to look at Jadie. She fidgeted and tried to look small.

"Looks that way," Granger continued, "Its in crayon for god's sake…not a killer sort of thing if you ask me."

"Did you check those city's records for similar serial murders?"

"Yeah and we got 'em too—in all the cities and names listed on the paper too. All identical murders. Age range five to eight, sexual assault, cause of death was bleeding out…the works." Don mulled this over.

"How many murders were in each city?" Don queried.

"Five."

"We've had six already…" Don paused.

"Yeah but we've got a witness." Colby supplied, putting into words the very thing that Don had been thinking.

"Ok," Don spoke definitively, "Good work Granger, keep me posted—I have some questions for Jadie that I'll see if I can't get some answers."

"Ok Don," Colby hesitated, "And good luck—that kid is one hell of a piece of work."

"Thanks Granger, I'll remember that. Call me if you find anything else out or if Richards wakes up."

"You got it."

Don hung up the phone. He looked at Jadie and began to open his mouth with every intention of questioning her right there on the spot, but as he looked at her, looking at him, and his heart melted and his voice died in his throat. She looked so scared and so _fragile._

_I'll question her later…_Don thought decidedly as he shut his mouth. _She's just a kid after all…_Don thought for a moment while Jadie waited, suspended in time waiting for the proverbial ax that was never coming.

"C'mon" Don said as he suddenly got out of his vehicle. Jadie gave him a bewildered look. Don put on his sunglasses and again, he felt his heart ache for this poor girl. _Just what exactly was done to her? _Don wondered.

"Well?" He said expectantly, looking towards the shopping center, "I know its not going to go anywhere, but it might close." Jadie looked so confused, tears were gathering in her eyes. Don shut his door and walked around to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the door. He took off his sunglasses and met her eyes. He smiled gently.

"We have some shopping to do."

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Note: Ok this chapt was kinda short I know—I've planned out the next four or five chapters and this chapt and the next 2 are kind of filler chapters. Sorry! It'll pick up again soon, promise. Anyway R&R! Constructive criticism welcome! All thoughts and opinions are welcome!


	7. Shopping

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I've told you once, I've told you a _million_ times…I don't own 'em…poor me :-(

NOTE: Ok this is a kinda fluffy chapter…bear with me folks; it gets a little angsty in a chapt or two.

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CHAPTER 7: Shopping—"…_he was in for a long, long afternoon…"_

Don held Jadie's hand firmly as they entered through the automatic doors to the shopping center. Don automatically began to scan the crowded mall inconspicuously, using his sunglasses as a shield for his assessing eyes. His training as an FBI agent was second nature now, and he had to keep an eye open—he was with a very important witness, after all. Besides, he'd had the funny feeling that they were being followed although Don hadn't actually seen anything that suggested that. It was more intuition, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Probably just indigestion,_ Don thought half-heartedly.

Although it had been a spontaneous decision, Don now moved through the mall with purpose, the girl in tow. Jadie periodically glanced at him, puzzled, until finally she decided that he was going to do whatever it was he was going to do, and she was just along for the ride.

Don continually glanced into the various stores as they passed them; the mall was _not_ familiar territory.

Shortly, Don muttered a mild sound of triumph as they walked into a clothing store.

Jadie's eyebrow's scrunched together as she attempted to figure out what exactly was going on. When Don stopped in front of the girls clothing, Jadie met his expectant gaze with her own glare of stubborn refusal.

"New clothes aren't going to kill you," Don began; Jadie still gave him a steely glare. Don sighed and rethought his approach.

"I'm not saying you have to get rid of the clothes you have now," Don consciously tried not to cringe at the rust-colored stains that spattered areas of her tan shirt. "But maybe it wouldn't be bad to have something new…" Jadie's eyes narrowed. Don stared back. It was almost a contest of wills now—and Don would be damned if he was going to let her continue to wear her ragged garments. Jadie had yet to speak; but then again her expression sent her message, loud and clear.

"Look," Don started again gesturing with his hands haphazardly in frustration—he wracked his brain—"You don't have to change everything all at once," ha paused searchingly, "…just maybe add something new to what you already have…" Don waited with somewhat bated breath as Jadie's face acquired a contemplative look. Don had figured out, last minute, that Jadie didn't know how to handle change—in her current situation, with her trauma, Don had to admit that she was doing admirably—another sign that she wasn't average. So Don had tried to give her a reason why at least a little change was acceptable.

Don's efforts were rewarded by one of Jadie's small, conceding nods. Don let out a sigh that he hadn't really realized he'd been holding. He didn't know why, but getting the girl new clothes had seemed important—she had _nothing_ and Don thought that if she was going to reach out to him in the slightest, the least he could do was to get her some clothes that _didn't have blood on them._

"Alright then," Don gestured to the clothing, "Pick out something you like." As Jadie fixed him with another steely glare, Don realized he was in for a long, long afternoon.

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Three hours, numerous glares, and five mismatched outfits later, Don was ready for a good night's sleep. _That was far more exhausting than I could have ever guessed._ The whole situation could have gone smoother, he reflected, but it could have been a whole lot worse as well. _It was like pulling teeth_, Don mused, almost affectionately. _What is going on with me anyway?_ Don wondered. _I'm going all…mushy-sensitive. _

Don shook his head with minimal disgust at himself, then with the clothes all draped over one arm, and a firm grip on Jadie's hand with the other, they made their way to the checkout counter.

"Hi! Did you find everything ok?" the over-cheery sales-girl burbled.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Don muttered and smiled, hoping to distract the teenager from the fact that he was leading a strange young girl around with blood stains on her shirt. Don hadn't really thought about had bad that would look until just now.

Fortunately, the sales-girl was either oblivious or very…courteous.

"Cute kid!" the teenage clerk exclaimed, making a 'cutesy' face at Jadie, who seemed to be fascinated by the display of appalling cheeriness. The teenager started to scan the tags on the clothes as Don, realizing that the clerk thought Jadie was his daughter, started to open his mouth to correct her when it occurred to Don that it really wasn't worth the effort. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to just go with it.

"Thanks." Don smiled casually and the sales-girl smiled back, utterly oblivious, and told him his total. Don paid for the clothes, gathered the bags, took Jadie's hand and began to head for the exit. He happened to notice, glancing momentarily at Jadie, that she was regarding him with a curious gaze.

"What?" Don shrugged at the child. HE was pleasantly surprised when Jadie gave him a tiny, brief, smile. Don felt himself start to grin back like an idiot, but he managed to refrain.

He smiled inwardly as they got into his SUV. Things were looking bleak on the case. On agent was dead, another was in critical care and yet, _and yet_, Don felt inordinately optimistic—he didn't know how yet, but everything would be ok—he didn't know how he knew, but inside, when the traumatized little witness smiled at him, _he just knew._

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Note: Ok I think I might have stretched Don's character a bit on that one but it seemed to work in the grand scheme of things. Anyway R&R—lemme know what you think and all that jazz!


	8. Home

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** I don't feel like writing one this chapter –gasp—just go look at one of the other chapters if you really must see a disclaimer.

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CHAPTER 8: Home—"… _now that I think about it—it really isn't_…"

Don led Jadie up to the door of his apartment, fumbling with the bags and his keys in the faded hallway of the apartment complex. He was more nervous about having a child in his apartment; more than he would have admitted to anyone, as a matter of fact. He silently acknowledged this fact to himself however and also the fact that he simply couldn't bring himself to involve his father and Charlie in the case. Luckily, the FBI had managed to keep the case all but out of the news so Charlie and his dad would have little or no idea what was going on. Don planned on keeping it that way.

Don opened the door and Jadie went right in, looking around with vast amounts of interest and curiosity written all over her pale face.

"It's not much," Don remarked, putting the bags down by one end of the couch, "But it's …well…" Don stopped, cocked his head sideways, thought about what he had been about to say, and chuckled to himself. "I was going to say 'but its home', but now that I think about it—it really isn't," Don continued, "I spend more time at the office and at my brother's house than I do here—funny huh?" Don looked at Jadie who was studying his CD rack with great interest. Don shook his head. _She probably doesn't even care,_ Don mused. _She's off in her own little world…_

Abruptly, Don's cell phone began to ring, interrupting his thoughts. Don inwardly groaned when he saw "Dad" come up on the screen. Don would not have bet any amount of money that Megan _hadn't _called his father and at least told him a little bit about what was going on. Don shook his head ruefully. He should really know better. Don answered the phone.

"Hey dad!" Don mustered with a small amount of false cheer.

"Don!" Alan did not sound happy. "I just spoke with Megan and she says that you're taking care of a witness at you apartment!" Don winced.

"Yeah I…" Don managed to begin.

"Donnie, why don't you just bring her over here! You know Charlie and I would love to help and don't think I haven't noticed that you are trying to keep both of in the dark on this case your working on!" Alan took a breath and continued before Don could interject a comment, "…and I would really like to know what is going on Donnie, this isn't a dangerous case is it?" Don didn't like where this conversation was going. Don sighed. His father was not going to be happy with him. Don could hear Charlie in the background as Alan started to speak again.

"Now, Don…"

"Listen, Dad," Don cut him off, "I can't talk right now ok? I have to go there are some things I need to take care of—don't worry about me I've got everything handled…" Alan tried to speak but Don just talked over him. "Listen I-got-to-go-bye" Dan ran his words together so his father couldn't interrupt and then hung up the phone. Don looked down at the phone like it was an alien; he couldn't even remember the last time he'd hung up on his father.

"You hung up on your dad?" Jadie suddenly questioned from right beside him, startling Don from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Don shrugged, "He worries too much." Jadie gave him a curious look.

After a moment of silence, Don figured he should sit her down and ask her some pertinent questions, but truth be told, he just didn't feel up to it.

"Hey kid," Don spoke, a little resigned, "Want to watch a movie or something on T.V.?" Jadie nodded.

"Sure."

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Note: this was an über-short chapt. But the next one should wind up being a biggie. R&R!


	9. In the Dark

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** Me no own Numb3rs.

**Warning:** violence/graphic descriptions.

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CHAPTER 9: In the Dark—"…_ sitting side by side…"_

The night was cool and crisp; the stars gleamed far above the city, almost invisible to an observer on the streets. Don was running, he wasn't sure why, just that he had to get there before it was too late. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and his muscles ached and burned. He seemed to move so slowly even though he felt that he was pushing himself as hard as he could. Left. Right. Right. Left. Don zigzagged through the maze of alleyways and side streets. But no matter how fast he ran, it ended like it always had.

He was too late.

The little girl had just turned five, he recalled, and there she lay, bloody, her eyes glazed over. She lay at an awkward angle, like she'd been posed—she was on her side, her blank eyes fixed on him—relentlessly staring, accusing. Don walked up to her slowly, feeling the tears stream down his face. He sat down, defeated, just a few feet from her body. She was so young. She had so much life ahead of her. And now it was all wasted. Her arms were raw, and Don could see where the shackles has been on her wrists—there was no skin left where they had chafed in her struggle and in her fear. Her legs were broken, the stark white of the bone protruding, painfully obvious to Don that her legs had been the first thing to be damaged—ridding the girl of all hopes for escape from her psychopathic tormentor. Her gray plaid schoolgirl uniform was ripped and torn, barely covering the girl, exposing the livid bite marks, and infected cuts. Her long blond hair was tangled and dirty.

Suddenly Don knew what was coming and he tried to move away, but he was rooted to the spot. Slowly, slowly—to Don's horror—the victim's broken body sat up, her eyes black and angry.

"You didn't come." She accused, her voice, hoarse and raw, "You didn't **save** me!" she wailed, her mangled throat was now exposed—it had been slit and the skin was purple and blue around the gaping wound. Don tried to speak, to say that he was so sorry, that he tried so hard, but there was no evidence…! Nothing came out but a strangled gasp of terror. And slowly, slowly—the victim started to crawl towards him, dragging her ruined body towards him with mangled arms. Don tried to move, yell –anything—but all he could do was to watch and cry as she got closer and closer and closer…

Don snapped awake from the nightmare, gasping for air, his heart racing. He threw back the covers and sat on the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. Don felt the moisture on his face, and with a shaky hand, wiped away the tears that had been shed while he slept.

After the second case, the one with the youngest victim, Don started to have this nightmare. He had it almost every night now. It was the same every time and every time there was a small part of him that knew it was a dream. Just a dream. Yet he could never seem to make himself wake up; nor was his reaction when he woke any different. Drenched in sweat, Don tried to get up, but immediately sat back down on the bed. His legs felt shaky and he wasn't so sure they would support his weight. Don surveyed his bed. It was a mess; blankets were tangled in a mess, pillows had been thrown or kicked off of the bed—it looked like a war zone—

He sat there, unmoving, for a long time. He listened to the rain that was pounding into the apartment building, and the thunder boomed out while the lightning periodically illuminated his small bedroom. Finally, when he felt calmer, he got up and changed his clothes. He leaned against the wall, and once again, praised himself for making the right decision by not letting Charlie work on the case. If this case was affecting him this badly, Don didn't even want to know what it would do to Charlie.

He ran his fingers through his damp hair as the thunder cracked again. Don looked at his alarm clock—12:36am. Don sighed. There was still plenty of time to try to go back to sleep but Don had yet to successfully do so after the nightmare. If he kept his up too much longer, his co-workers were going to start noticing. He'd been progressively waking up earlier and earlier since he'd started having the nightmare. Before too long he wasn't going to be sleeping at all, and then he'd really have problems. I'm just going to have to hurry up and get this case solved before that happens, Don thought, until then, I'm just going to have to tough it out. Don started for the living room, treading softly as he remembered a certain little girl who was sleeping on his couch.

He moved almost silently into the living room and lightning illuminated the room just long enough for him to see Jadie, her back facing towards him, lying on the couch. Don stealthily went into the kitchen and turned on the lights, silently hoping that he wouldn't wake the girl in the next room. He rummaged through his fridge for a moment before deciding that he'd be better off just drinking a glass of water. He stood in the kitchen, weariness spreading through his entire body. Don sighed and leaned his head against the cupboard. He was so tired. He stepped back and finished off the water. He might as well try to sleep again, he couldn't watch T.V. like he usually did—Jadie was in there and he didn't want to risk waking her up.

Don was almost to the hallway when lightning struck again, thunder booming so loudly that the few pictures hanging on the walls rattled. In that moment of illumination, Don could see Jadie was lying in a way that he wouldn't associate with sleep. Her muscles are tensed up, Don groaned inwardly, what a moron I am—like she's going to sleep that easy after all she's been through. Don made his way over to the couch, not bothering to be quiet anymore. He sat down on the edge of the couch by Jadie's feet. In the next flash of lightning, Don saw that Jadie's eyes were open, and fearful—not of him—She's afraid of the storm, Don thought with some wonder.

"You know," Don spoke softly, "My brother Charlie used to be terrified of thunderstorms." Don smiled to himself, remembering. "He used to sit in his bed with the covers pulled up to right under his nose, muttering math equations about the probability that he, or the house, would get struck by lightning." Don looked over at Jadie. Slowly, without speaking, she sat up next to Don. She sat closer than Don would have expected—so close that her shoulder rested against his arm. There was something oddly comforting about that closeness—them sitting side by side in the dark like they were. Don waited; if she wanted to speak that was fine—if she didn't, Don didn't mind that either. He was perfectly content to just sit next to her, although he did hope that his presence was soothing to her—he hated to see her frightened like she was for some reason...

"She likes it when it rains…in the dark," Jadie whispered, her voice hushed, "I never did." Don waited for her to say more but she didn't so Don just waited, mulling over her words. Thunder boomed out, lightning lit up the small apartment. Don felt Jadie flinch.

"It's ok," Don murmured, and without thinking, he put his arm around the girl's narrow shoulders. She was tense, but only for a moment and then ever so slowly she relaxed against Don.

Don debated with himself; there was a question he wanted, no needed, to ask her but he knew that it would most likely upset her. With a resigned sigh, he decided he had to do it.

"Jadie," he spoke softly, "how do you know her like you do?" Jadie started to speak and then she stopped. Wordlessly she began to cry, heaving sobs that wracked her entire body. Don could feel her shaking. "Shhh…" Don pulled Jadie into a hug, where she immediately grabbed his t-shirt and cried into his chest. "Shhh" he continued to coo. Don's heart squeezed inside his chest. It tore him up to see her so upset.

"She's always been there…" Jadie's voice, muffled by Don's chest, croaked out. "Just us," Jadie hiccupped, "Danny was nice to me anyway, he—he used to talk to me through the window—he lived next door, but he didn't understand!" Jadie sobbed, shaking like a leaf. "She didn't like him and I tried to help him but I couldn't! It was dark, in the rain—I tired to get her to stop but she wouldn't!" Jadie collapsed again into gut-wrenching sobs. Don felt a lump rise in his throat and he tried to repress it. He rested his chin on top of her head, and gently rocked her back and forth. He had a slightly clearer picture of who Danny was and what happened to him and he didn't like it.

"She never loved me." Jadie croaked out. What? Don thought. Then it occurred to him, an awful truth—no, oh please no, not to this poor child—

"My own mother and she didn't love me," Don's heart crashed in his chest. Dear god, her mother… "If my own mother didn't love me then how can anyone else?" Jadie hiccupped and looked up at Don, anguish in her features. Don was at a loss for words, so instead, he gently pulled her close to his chest, and he rocked her gently, gently and he hummed a long forgotten lullaby that had been in the back of his head. He began to croon a few words of the song, and before long, he was singing quietly to the lost little girl. He held her, he held her close, until she cried herself to sleep.

In the dark, he cradled her small body and only then, after she was in a deep sleep, did he cry for her, silently, his tears fell.

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Note: Whew, this was tricky to write. The next chapter will be another shorty in between one but the chapter after that will be a little angsty with a slight confrontation between Don and his father and Charlie—anyway there's a little preview to keep you all waiting! Please R&R all input is welcome and appreciated.


	10. Warmth

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine!

**Note:** OK sorry this chapter took so long! It's a tricky transitional chapter that just didn't want to flow…a real S.O.B. …Oh and on the last chapter (Ch9) there was a slight defect with the italics…like after the intro quote, there weren't any (there were SUPPOSED to be _a lot—_hopefully the italics will function properly for this chapter)! Ah well, I'm going to try to fix that up this weekend—anyway R&R!

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CHAPTER 10: Warmth—" …_this too, was oddly comforting_…"

Don woke early as the faint rays of morning light filtered through the small apartment. It was a conscious effort not to immediately get up, as he realized that Jadie had fallen asleep against him, her head resting in the crook of his arm. She was sleeping soundly and Don was glad—not only that she had gotten some sleep, but that he had as well. He was actually rather surprised that he'd slept; after all of the previous night's turmoil he had expected to be awake to watch the sunrise, so to speak. Then again, Don reflected, it had been an emotionally exhausting night.

Don looked down at the slumbering child and felt the somewhat familiar pang in his chest. He was getting too protective and too attached to the girl; he knew it, instinctively, yet some part of him was still in denial. He really didn't need the additional trouble, the additional worry; so he merely pretended that it wasn't there. If it "wasn't there" then he didn't have to worry about it.

Dangerous thoughts safely out of the way, Don surveyed the situation; there was no way he could get up without waking Jadie. He doubted she was a sound enough sleeper that he could jostle her without waking her. He didn't want to disturb her sleep either. He was lying sideways on the couch and Jadie was lying next to him, her back pressed into his chest; her arms were wrapped around Don's left arm and she was using his right arm as a pillow. Don sighed quietly, carefully shifting his weight to a more comfortable spot. He could feel the warmth of her body heat against his chest and somehow, like when they had sat side by side in the dark, this too, was oddly comforting to Don—reassuring somehow.

Don watched her, as she slept, and he marveled at how peaceful her features were in slumber. Gone were the heart wrenching tears and the haunted look in her eyes. Gone was the distress that plagued her while she was awake. _If only this peacefulness could carry over to when she's awake,_ Don thought wistfully.

Don didn't know how long he watched her and he was only vaguely aware, as the apartment grew brighter as the sun rose higher, heralding that the start of a new day had come and gone. The morning was well under way, when Jadie began to stir. Don had been carefully reviewing all the evidence already gathered and the new information that he had from Jadie in his head, when Jadie untangled herself from Don's arms, sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Morning," Don greeted the freshly alert child. She just looked at him, yawning.

"Not a morning person huh?" Don asked with a smile, as Jadie shook her head slowly. "Why don't you go ahead and get cleaned up?" Don continued, as he sat up, "You could put on one of your new…uh…outfits." Don raked his fingers through his hair, repressing a smile. Jadie's fashion sense, or lack thereof, amused Don to no end. Jadie however, was oblivious to Don's amusement as she simply gave a subdued nod, rose, grabbed one of the bags with the clothing, and headed into the bathroom.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

About twenty minutes later, Jadie was still in the bath and Don had begun to rummage through his cupboards. _What the hell have I got to feed a kid?_ Don thought exasperated, as he realized he didn't have anything suitable to feed a malnourished ten year old.

_Ah, screw it,_ Don thought as he heard the bathroom door open, _we'll go out and get something._ Don walked into the living room and was greeted by a pristine looking Jadie. Well, pristine except for the hair.

"Oh kiddo," Don said chuckling, "We have _got_ to do something with that hair!" Jadie frowned at Don as he took in her appearance. She wore bright green corduroy overalls with a yellow long-sleeved shirt and purple socks. The bright colors were nearly obscene. _This is what I get for letting her pick it out, _Don thought wryly. Jadie's hair however, was the kicker. It was tangled in knots and stuck out in more directions than Don thought humanly possible. And it was _dripping_ wet.

"Come here," Don grinned, motioning towards the floor in front of the couch as he grabbed a brush and sat down. Jadie scowled, shook her head, and folded her arms.

"_Come here,_" Don continued, insistently, an amused smirk still pulling at his lips. "Look, you'll feel better and I'm not going to bite or anything," Don placated. Jadie looked at him for a long suspicious moment, then with a defeated sigh, walked over, and plopped down in front of Don. He grinned to himself. _Another battle won…_

Don gently brushed her hair, trying not to think about how utterly calm everything seemed and how he so many things to do. The night had seemed surreal now, and Don was reluctant to take Jadie back into the chaos of so-called normality. Don shook his head; how odd was it that him, brushing her hair, being kind to her, was a completely alien and foreign thing to Jadie. Don was utterly appalled at how her short life had been so completely _wrong_. He shook the depressing thoughts from his mind and began to focus on what needed to be done, as he fought with the unruly tangles of Jadie's hair.

He needed to call David and see what he found out about the latest victim. He needed to call Colby for an update on Richards' condition and any additional info that he may have found out. He needed to call his father back after hanging up on him…Don winced at that thought. That was not going to be an enjoyable conversation. As a matter of fact, Don glanced at his watch, he wouldn't be surprised if his father called _him_ first and demanded that he come over, witness or no, for a little chat.

Don glanced up with an inward groan; as he just finished Jadie's hair, his cell phone rang. _Speak of the devil…_Don heaved a sigh, pulled himself to his feet, and picked up his cell phone. The word 'Dad' taunted him from the cell's caller ID screen. _Here we go_, Don thought and answered.

"Hello…"

"Don! I nearly called you right back after last night! But I needed to think about what happened…I couldn't believe you just hung up on me like that. What were you thinking? I was just concerned about you and then you go and hang up on me!" Alan's aggravated voice boomed out over the phone, causing Don to wince and jerk the phone away from his ear.

"Listen, Dad, about that…" Don began.

"Oh no, I remember what happened last time...you didn't let me get a word in edgewise then you hung up! No, I want you right over here, pronto, you got that? We need to talk. And Charlie's here too. We're family Don and we need to know what's going on. I mean, you hanging up on me isn't like you and frankly Charlie and I are concerned."

"Look Dad," Don jumped in, when Alan paused to take a breath, " I have this witness and I can't leave her alone…"

"So bring her with you and Don, don't even try to get out of this." Alan's tone brooked to room for argument. Don had hit a sore spot apparently, by hanging up on the older man.

"Ok, ok." Don sighed resigned, "I'll be over in a little while."

"Ok, I'll see you in a little while, no ifs ands or buts…and definitely no calls saying that something came up. I'm serious Don."

"I know I know. I'll see you in a while. Bye Dad." Don leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. _This is going to suck…_Don thought.

"Bye Donnie." Alan hung up the phone. Don looked at his cell like it was a traitor, and hung up as well.

"Well, that could have been worse." Don remarked, ruefully. He regarded Jadie with an appraising look. During his phone conversation, she had sat in front of the couch running her fingers through her hair, a feat that she was, no doubt, unused to.

"Feel better?" Don queried. Jadie nodded. Don noticed that she still had yet to speak after her quasi-confession the previous night. He watched with interest as Jadie stood up rather decidedly, walked over to him, and much to Don's surprise, hugged him, her small arms squeezing tight around his waist. Don regarded her with amazement and he patted her on her head, a little awkwardly, her display of affection catching him off guard. Jadie glanced up at Don.

"Thank you…for all your…niceness." She spoke solemnly and with complete sincerity. Don knelt and hugged her firmly.

"Your Welcome." Don whispered. He was so touched by this, so utterly moved and not for the first time Don silently wondered what kind of mess was he getting himself into. At the same time another small voice whispered in the back of his head, that maybe, just maybe, he didn't really care.

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NOTE: ok I definitely need feedback on this chapter. It was extremely difficult to write—I wasn't sure where I wanted it to go. I might have over done Alan's emotions a little but I wanted him to be frustrated with Don and the only ammunition that I set myself up with was the fact that Don hung up on him. Anyway this next chapter might take a bit…I have an interesting idea for how to set it up that's different than previous chapters. Please be patient with me. Anyhow please R&R—constructive criticism appreciated as always.


	11. Snap

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer**: ….ok duct tape—check, rope—check, cookies—what? No I wasn't planning on kidnapping the creators and demanding ownership of Numb3rs…ha…ha…now why would you think something like that?

NOTE: This chapter is set up a little different (it didn't take me as long to write as I thought it was going to—only three hours:-P) —hopefully it will turn out like the grand vision in my head…if not then I'm sure you all will have plenty of constructive criticism for me eh?

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CHAPTER 11: Snap—" …_an inexplicable feeling that had suddenly infected his soul_…"

247312403617456371647310671732184298317498032174893279473201947820(**DON**)

Don walked slowly to the front door of what was now his brother's house; Don was not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. He was pretty sure that his father wasn't really that upset about Don hanging up on him, but rather Alan was hurt that Don was leaving him and Charlie out of the proverbial loop on a potentially dangerous case. Alan was just extremely concerned—his paternal instincts were going haywire and he just wanted Don to give him some kind of reassurance. Hanging up on him had not been what Alan had been looking for.

No, Don wasn't really worried about his Dad being angry with him—he was more worried that Charlie was. Between the two of them, Don knew that Charlie would be more likely to jump to conclusions and be angry with Don for concealing information regarding the case. _Probably thinks that **I **think he can't handle the case…which he can't…_Don thought as he came up to the front door, Jadie patiently at his side.

"Here goes nothing…" Don muttered under his breath, and he opened the door, knocking as he entered, guiding Jadie with his hand on her back into the house.

"Hello?" Don called out into the deserted living room.

"Don…" Alan answered, coming out of the kitchen, Charlie hot on his heels. Don could see the vindictive look on Charlie's face and knew that this was going to get ugly fast.

"Uh, hey guys…" Don started, trailing off. He watched with something akin to horror, a feeling especially pertaining to family members, as both Alan and Charlie simultaneously opened their mouths…

4372801473829015743615846845871063473261984637215481560347148967(**JADIE**)

Jadie didn't really understand what was going on. After last night, her brain shut down again after that partial recovery. She couldn't handle that much emotion. It had been hard enough to thank the nice man (_Don)_ this morning. But she felt that she needed to say something (_Couldn't find the words._) He (_the nice man_) was arguing now with an older man (_his father)_ and a younger man (). Jadie didn't really like how they loud it got (_after time…how much…gone_) but she didn't pay any attention to them. She had to be vigilant. She (_SHE_) would come, sooner or later (_Find me again…like always…)_ Jadie knew; she had to be watchful.

The nice man (_Don)_ wasn't going to expect her (_HER_) to come. Jadie didn't know how to tell him (_the words…can't remember…_), she couldn't find the words. Jadie had that problem a lot. (_The words…gone…don't speak…don't scream…go away...shut up!_). Her mind would get all fuzzy and sometimes she didn't know where she was (_in the rain…in the dark…dig dig…_) or who she was with (_HER—not HER…please no_) Sometimes she forgot so much that she thought was somewhere and some-when else; (_Back THERE with HER_) that always scared Jadie, the not knowing.

_(Wait)_

_(There)_

_(Did they see it? Out the window?)_

_(Was it real?)_

_(NO!)_

Jadie sat down by the edge of the couch, her heart racing (_it was real)_. She looked towards the nice man _(DON!)_ and the other men () and they were no longer so angry but they were in serious conversation, completely oblivious to Jadie (_they didn't see_). She had to tell them (_warn them! …runaway runaway…)_ but the words eluded her again (_the words!)._ Her brain raced and started to get fuzzy around the edges (_not now_) and she seemed to lose all command of her vocal chords (_don't speak…don't scream…hush hush)._

(_A flash of fabric, by the window—)_

_(Didn't they see it?) (No)_

_(HER)_

Jadie had to warn the nice man (_Look! Look!)_, she had to tell him. Jadie moved towards the table, quickly and quietly, she grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the table.

(_Pencil)_

_(Paper)_

_(Warning)_

_(Draw)_

With furious, yet sure strokes, Jadie began to draw…

3278320138092579357327834283463275932478318493218493-2819048903493(**DON**)

This wasn't going like Don thought.

It was most definitely worse.

"I'm tired of you treating me like a child, Don!" Charlie yelled, "I'm a full grown adult and I can handle this case—I don't want to help you only to have you shove me over to the side when you think I can't handle something!" Don knew losing his temper here was a bad idea, he really did know, yet somehow, his temper still managed to get the better of him.

"Charlie!" Don yelled, furious, "You don't even know what this case is and I don't want you or Dad anywhere near it!"

"Oh, really. I can help with serial killers and bank robbers, and _other_ witnesses in my house but whatever this is, I can't handle it." Charlie retorted sarcastically, gesturing with his hands in a manner that clearly sent the message 'yeah, right.' Don opened his mouth to reply when Jadie, whom he had completely forgot about, walked up him and handed him a drawing. It looked like something from a comic book—a frame-by-frame story. It only took Don a second to grasp its general meaning. He needed to get to the FBI office immediately—he had yet to speak with David and Megan—he didn't know if they'd found anything new and he had yet to update them on what he'd found out. One thing was clear—there was more danger in this case than he had even realized. He looked at the drawing closely and he felt fear rise up in his chest…

57219804792803147293817490321748372198479023817480327483065436534(**ALAN**)

Alan watched with growing trepidation as the argument between his two sons escalated further and further out of control. Alan had barely gotten a word out, when Charlie had surprised him and began to yell at Don. He had tried to step in, but Charlie just steamrolled right over whatever placating comments Alan was trying to make.

Charlie was on a rampage, and Alan was helpless to stop it.

At the same time, he felt guilty; he'd been the one to insist that Don come over—he had tried to make himself sound angrier so Don would be at least a little remorseful and maybe see how badly he'd worried him. Don had looked sorry too. But it turns out that all Alan did, was to put Don in his youngest' line of fire. When Don finally lost his temper, Alan was sure that this was going to take a long time to fix.

Then the girl, _the witness_, Alan amended, walked up to Don and handed him a piece of paper. In a millisecond all the color left Don's face and Alan felt his heart jump in his chest when his eldest gave him a look, and Alan saw that his son, his brave son, had fear in his eyes…

3271890489217430621453627148632710463721047382147830891265420(**CHARLIE**)

_Who the hell does he think he is?_ Charlie fumed.

Charlie had worked hard to get to where he was. Sure math came easy to him, but when he started teaching he had a whole new area to try to master. Getting along with people. It had taken him awhile, but now Charlie was one of the most well liked professors on campus, as well as one of the best. He was _not_ a child and he resented Don treating him like he was one. Charlie had thought that maybe him and Don were ok now; that they had gotten by all this, but no—they hadn't—and Charlie was fed up.

Charlie was about to say all this, in the opportune silence created when Don had paused mid-retort when the witness handed him a paper—but Charlie hesitated when he saw Don give Alan a look that caused their father to jump.

"Look, Charlie, I'm sorry…"Don started helplessly, regret written across every feature of his face. _What? _Charlie was confused, Don didn't back down once he lost his temper…this wasn't like him. For the first time, Charlie felt a tinge of regret for his actions—but Don's next words fueled Charlie's anger again.

"I have to go Charlie…and I do not want you or dad _anywhere_ _near this case_." Don gestured with his hand, annunciating the last four words.

"What is it with you Don?" Charlie asked, anger still evident in his voice, "Is it really so hard for you to just ask for my help? What, don't want to be embarrassed by your kid brother? I thought we had gotten over this Don…" Charlie spoke, his voice thick.

Don flinched as if struck.

"We have Charlie, _we have_, but this case is bad, I can't explain it—it just is," Don paused, struggling with emotion. Charlie watched in shock as Don's shoulders slumped and his face went slack and for the first time, Charlie saw how truly _tired_ his brother was.

"Don…" Charlie started, apologetic, half-reaching out to support Don with realizing he was doing so. Alan stepped to Don's side.

"Donnie…" Worry was etched across every aspect of Alan's face. Don put a hand over his face. _What is going on here?_ Charlie thought, _and just what have I done?_

462178570315038174846321778925797580478903174893749284789571388974(**DON**)

He was not going to break down.

Not here, not now.

Especially not here…

Don had felt something inside snap, an inexplicable feeling that had suddenly infected his soul; he couldn't explain it, but as he had grasped what Jadie was saying in the picture…_Her mother follows her victims weeks in advance, she is an expert at not being seen…she's killed police before and **not been **caught…_Don had yet to realize the full implications of what that meant, yet he knew, deep inside, that this meant he and the rest of his team were in far more danger than he would have ever known. Don realized this, looked at his father, fearful, knowing exactly what this psycho was capable of and when Charlie accused him…

_What, don't want to be embarrassed by your kid brother?_

…Don had felt that snap, and he covered his face, so they couldn't see how perilously close he truly was to losing it completely.

"This case," He continued his voice thick, desperately hating and needing his fathers reassuring hold on his arm, "it's bad…I've got one agent dead, another is in danger of dying, absolutely no evidence of this killer except little tidbits of info that we get from our extremely traumatized witness, and even that information doesn't lead us any closer…" Don risked a glance at his family, he pulled his hand away for a moment—and felt so utterly helpless. He saw the concerned looks from Charlie and his father and he couldn't stand it.

He was supposed to be the strong one.

"I …"Don hesitated not sure if he should say what was next—but he saw Charlie—sheltered Charlie, opening his mouth to offer his help—Don knew already—and Don could _not_ have that. "I've got six dead kids…" Don said putting his hand back over his face as he heard both Alan and Charlie's swift intake of breath.

"Charlie," Don continued, knowing that the next thing he would say was not only the most vital, but also the most painful—Don would have to admit his weakness to get Charlie to understand, "the way these kids have been killed…its so terrible and I…I haven't been able to stop these murders…"Don felt all his muscles tense as he remembered the violent images…his nightmare…

…_You didn't **save** me…_

"_I'm_ having nightmares and I don't want either of you near this case, especially not you Charlie…" Don hoped that maybe his brother could forgive him of protecting him, even if it was just this once…

"Don…"

"Donnie…" Both Charlie and Alan started.

They never got to say anymore however, because Jadie, forgotten about once again in the turmoil of the Eppe's family, began to scream.

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NOTE: OK how was that? Jadie was tough to do—I tried to make it seem like her thoughts and what was going on was confused and to give some insight into the extent of her trauma…R&R! I would love to know how effective this chapter was into giving insight into everyone's head.


	12. Realization

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine—they're just my pawns in whatever plot I chose to subject them too—(Evil Grin Here).

Author's Note: Ok (THUMP) that's the sound of me running into a brick wall on this story. The Chapters from here on out might be a little—teeny bit—slow in coming. I hadn't really planned much past that last chapter so now the story is in limbo—it's got a life of its own. More than ever R&R—constructive criticism and opinions would be really really great! Oh and sorry this chapt. is kind of short…

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CHAPTER 12: Realization—"…_it hit him like a bag of wet cement_…"

As abruptly as Jadie's ear piercing shriek had disrupted the Eppes' family, it ended just as abruptly.

Jadie clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide in utter terror and Don was reminded of the conversation in the conference room. …_She's…evil…_

Don moved over quickly to Jadie, feeling his momentary emotional breakdown dissipate in the face of something possibly worse.

"What's wrong Jadie? Are you ok?" Don asked her, in soothing tones. Jadie's eye were as wide a saucers—suddenly she glanced out the window; ever so briefly—but Don instinctively followed her line of sight—just in time to catch a glimpse of a figure of someone outside. Someone who didn't want to be seen. Don's heart started to pound in his chest, he felt adrenaline surge in his veins—but Don knew he had to stay calm—he needed to figure out more before he acted…

"Donnie, what's the matter with her?" Alan exclaimed from behind Don. Don looked back at his father. _Hold it together Don; don't say anything until you know for sure…_Don told himself. Charlie and Alan had concern written across their faces, not only for the small girl whose presence they had neglected, but also concern for Don, who had now seemingly recovered from his near mental collapse.

"I'm not sure what's going on…" Don began and then stopped. They hadn't seen what he had; that much he could tell—realization suddenly cracked into Don's head—it hit him like a bag of wet cement—_the drawing_, Don thought, _it showed a shadowy figure, presumably Jadie's mother, following one of the vics and a timeline…my god she's trying to tell me we're being followed…_

"What should we do Don?" Charlie asked, not noticing Don's suspiciously blank expression.

"I'm…" Don frowned, what was he going to say? "I'm not entirely sure." Don half-lied as he came to a conclusion in his mind. He turned his back on his family and faced Jadie. There was one piece of vital information that he needed to know before he acted.

He looked Jadie in the eyes, and prayed that she understood what he was asking. He mouthed silently to her 'Just you and me?' Jadie's eyes cleared; she knew and she nodded hesitantly.

"Jadie," Don continued, giving Jadie a look to let her know that what he was about to do was for his family's benefit, "what's the matter, are you ok?" Don didn't risk looking at Charlie or Alan, lest he give himself away. The "Sadist" was after him and more importantly, Jadie. She was after them and only them. By the two of them being at Charlie's house, they put both Alan and Charlie in danger; and Don knew that they were indeed in danger.

Jadie looked at him and she slowly curled up into a little ball and began to cry, rocking herself back and forth. Don felt oddly…proud of her. It was a show, Don knew. He'd seen her really freak out enough times now that although the differences were slight, this was an act.

"Don…"Alan spoke worriedly.

"I know I know..." Don muttered with mock frustration, "I'm going to get her to the office; maybe call Megan and have her meet me there—see if we can't calm her down…"

"Maybe we should wait a few minutes and see if she calms down on her own." Charlie chipped in. Alan and Don just looked at him.

"What?" Charlie exclaimed, shrugging, "It was just an idea."

"No, Charlie, I'm going to take her to the office—Megan _is_ the psychologist." Don leaned forward and picked up Jadie, who didn't react at all and just allowed Don to pick up her limp body in his strong grasp. Don began to walk towards the door.

"Look," Don paused, just for a moment, "I'm sorry I fell apart like that…" He shrugged, embarrassed.

"Don…"Charlie began painfully.

"…But I need to get going now..."Don rambled on, opening the door and heading out onto the porch, the now fervent mantra of '_we need to get out of here—I need to get them out of danger...' _repeating constantly in Don's head. Alan and Charlie both looked as if they would have said more, but Don wasn't going to give them the chance. _I'm definitely going to have to apologize later…_Don thought with regret.

"We'll talk later ok?" Don called out to them as he quickly walked out onto the lawn. He moved with surety and speed; putting Jadie in the SUV, getting in the driver's side, turning the key in the ignition…

He took off and felt somewhat guilty as he saw a stunned Charlie and Alan standing on the porch, looking confused and probably wondering what exactly had just occurred. _It's for their own good…_Don trailed off in his mind as he noticed a black Buick pull out and begin to drive behind him. He had a sneaking suspicion that he'd seen that car before. He recited the license number to himself as Jadie uncurled from the small ball she had rolled herself into beside him.

"Good Job," Don praised the girl, keeping an inconspicuous watchful eye on the rear view mirror and the Buick behind them. "It was an Oscar worthy performance." Don smiled reassuringly at Jadie.

"She's not going to go away." Jadie stated softly.

"I know…" Don murmured as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. This was turning out to be far more serious, and far more dangerous, than anyone had guessed it would be.

Don grimly turned on his cell phone. He had some calls to make.

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NOTE: Ok this chapter was brutal to write. The next one I'll try to write and post tomorrow, but no guarantees. R&R!


	13. Missing

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine!

Minor (I mean _minor_) Spoilers for 'In plain Sight'

**Note:** AHH ok sorry this took so long—I was busy over the weekend and I had and English paper to write yesterday—("Death of a Salesman" SUCKS) but now I'm officially on thanksgiving break. I'm going to try to hurry up and wrap this story up (I want to try to end it in five chapters…ha wish me luck) I've had an idea ker-plinking around in my noggin for a Numb3rs holiday fic—at the end of the last chapter I'll be asking for opinions and general questions to set up that fic so watch for that. Ummm ok I think that's all I need to say for now:- ) So sorry it took so long! Long chapter just to make up for it!

Ps. I mention guns and such in this chapter please forgive and correct me if it's inaccurate –I'm just kind of winging it.

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CHAPTER 13: Missing—"… _missing more than Waldo ever was_…"

Don drove and tried to remain as calm as he could possibly be. The Buick had been following him for some time now. He'd even took a couple of bogus turns to see if the Buick would turn off.

It didn't.

Don listened to the ringing on his cell phone, hoping that Megan and David were already at the office and would pick up.

"C'mon…"Don muttered under his breath. Finally, after what had seemed like hours, Agent Reeves picked up the phone.

"FBI, who is this and what do you want?" Megan answered the phone grouchily.

"Well good morning to you to…don't the phones in the office have caller ID yet? Or do I need to put that on our 'wish list'?" Don greeted her with false cheer.

"Oh…. Don, I'm sorry, I'm just…tired, that's all…." Don could picture Megan rubbing the crease in her forehead as she answered.

"Nah, It's ok," Don continued, "Listen, I'm driving to the office as we speak, I want to do a full review of evidence and I have some…interesting…new information that might help us…"Don trailed off, frowning as he noticed in his rear view mirror that the Buick turned off. _Maybe I was being paranoid after all…_Don thought, hesitant. On the phone Megan was talking to him.

"…We don't have too much to add to what we already know but you'll need to be filled in on a couple things like with the attack on Richards and Carlos…" Don could hear Megan preparing to launch into a full explanation.

"Tell me when I get to the office ok?" Don cut her off, "I've got my hands full driving…" He hesitated for a moment, "There's this weird car that I keep seeing and I'm not sure if its following me or not…I'm probably just being paranoid but, well…."Don trailed off again.

"Yeah, you are paranoid Don," Megan spoke, "But I understand, all the same—everyone's nerves are fried. I'll see you in awhile then."

"Ok." Don hung up the phone. He couldn't shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was seriously wrong.

Yet despite this feeling, Don never had a chance—He didn't even see the Buick until it was too late, as it came flying out of a side street and smashed into the rear side panel of the SUV.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I thought you said Don was on his way here?"

"That's what he told me."

"So," Agent David Sinclair spoke, frustration evident, "Where is he?"

"I don't know Sinclair." Megan replied angrily.

"It's been almost and hour and a half," David continued, worriedly, "What the hell could be taking him so long?"

Megan prepared to reply, once again, that she didn't know, when Colby Granger flew into the conference room, his face was flushed.

"They just found Don's SUV on a side street just outside a residential area," Colby started as both Megan and David stood, "It's rear driver side panel is all smashed to hell and there evidence that shots were fired at the scene…"

"What?" Megan half-yelled, "Why haven't we heard about this until now?" She demanded furiously.

"It was just called in," Colby said apologetically, "The lady who called was so rattled that apparently she didn't even move from her spot on the floor until after an hour after the shots were fired." David put his hands on his hips and swore as Megan looked like she'd just been bitten by her favorite puppy—wide eyed, and disbelieving.

"Don mentioned on the phone he thought he was being followed but we both pawned it off as stress…" Megan stated, half in a daze.

"Did he say what kind of car?" David asked, rounding on her.

"No…he didn't." Megan put her hand over her mouth, he had sounded so relieved when she'd said he was paranoid, as if he had wanted her confirmation. But she'd been wrong…

"Well, it gets worse," Colby continued.

"How could this be any worse?" Megan asked incredulous, "Don and our only witness are both MIA, with signs pointing to the fact they may have been abducted and you're saying its worse?" Colby nodded grimly.

"Yeah, I'll tell you on the way to the scene."

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A short time later they arrived at the street where Don's SUV was found.

"There's blood inside," Granger offered as Megan and David got out of the vehicle and looked at the chaos of the crime scene. Don's SUV was sitting in the middle of the intersection, the driver's side and passenger side doors were both flung open, the windshield and the driver's side door were riddled with bullet holes, and the back panel was crunched in, showing that the impact had been a hard one.

"Whose blood?" Megan asked, her voicing only shaking slightly.

"We're not sure yet," Colby continued, "But it's on the driver's side and it doesn't appear to be a result of the accident." David and Megan both looked at him for explanation. Colby sighed.

"Look, I was on my way to the office and I heard the call over the radio so I was one of the first ones here because I realized that its not all that far from Charlie's house and the description fit Don's car…" Colby trailed off as this fact registered on David and Megan's faces, "So when I got here I was able to confirm it was Don's SUV—the CSI's—when they got here—were almost immediately able to tell that Don's car had been struck from this other side street," Colby pointed to the street to the left of the wreckage, "…and despite the severity of the impact, the angle that it was hit, well the worst injury sustained should have been whiplash." Colby finished as a CSI walked up to the agents.

"We've found two different kinds of ammunition," the CSI started once he had their attention, "Casings from a standard law-enforcement issued nine millimeter, and some casings from a newer model Smith & Wesson." The CSI continued in a professional matter, despite the grim looks of the FBI agents. "We also sent DNA we collected to our lab—we pushed it through to the top of the list and we were just called and notified that the blood on the driver's side interior belongs to Agent Don Eppes and there is also two other minor blood samples that have been identified as two different females—neither of which are in our database."

"Thank you, keep us updated." David responded as Megan developed a numb look.

"What the hell happened here?" Megan spoke, puzzlement written across her features, as the CSI walked back towards the scene.

"I have no clue," David spoke wearily—the case was definitely not improving, "Let's go to the office and see if we can't figure it out."

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Back at the office, David, Megan and Colby sat in the conference room, reviewing all their data in a futile attempt to see something that they had missed before.

"Guys…" Colby spoke slowly and suddenly into the desperate quiet shuffling of papers. Both David and Megan looked up, curiously, not really expecting him to have found anything, but merely waiting for whatever statement he was going to make.

"Don was most definitely injured at the scene, possibly seriously, we have no idea where he is—I mean him and the witness are missing more than Waldo ever was…" Colby paused, took a deep breath and continued, "When are we going to tell his dad and Charlie?" Megan and David looked at each other uneasily.

"I'll go now," Megan spoke softly, rising and stacking the papers she'd been looking at into an obsessively neat pile.

"Are you sure?" David said, just as quietly, "I could go…"

"No." Megan sharply replied, "I'll do it," she continued firmly, and with that she walked out the door of the conference room. David sighed and leaned back into his chair, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. Colby shifted his weight around uneasily. He didn't know Don as well as Reeves and Sinclair and he felt uncomfortable and unsure of what he was supposed to do.

David sat forward suddenly, with purpose.

"Let's go over what evidence we have again."

"David, we've already…" Colby began, only to be interrupted.

"I don't care what we've already done! We'll go over it again and again until we see what it is that we're missing and I just know that we're missing something." David's voice contained a hushed and violent fury in it and Colby decided he wasn't going to argue.

"Ok, ok," Colby put his hands up in surrender, "Six victims, the oldest is eight, the youngest was barely five—they all bled out from a lateral cut across their throat as well as several other minor wounds. These other wounds also showed signs of torture, sexual as well as other kinds—whip marks, bite marks, repeated sexual violation before death and areas of raw skin around the wrists indicate that they were shackled in some manner." Colby paused for a breath as noted how David appeared to be concentrating very hard—his hands were laced together, his head bowed and his eyes were closed so he could focus completely on Colby's words.

"As for the two agents," Granger picked up again, "Agent Carlos had a puncture wound on the base of his neck; it had minor bruising and the C.O.D. was some unidentified poison," Colby leafed through the paper work again, "If we could figure out the poison we'd have a good lead but it seems that nearly all of it dissolved into Carlos' system leaving only trace amounts—not enough to identify it." Colby paused again, taking a deep breath; he forged on as he saw that Sinclair was dead serious about going through all the data again.

"Agent Richards is still in a coma, trace amounts of the same poison also found, however it appears it wasn't a full dose—the puncture wound he had was on the side of his neck and it was torn; the CSI's figure he wasn't surprised like Carlos was and managed to get away before he received a full injection. Unfortunately his system made quick work of the smaller dose and the doctors were barely able to figure out that it was the same poison that Carlos got a shot of. They still aren't sure if he's going to survive—whatever the stuff was, it's devastatingly effective." Colby hesitated, he hated going over this last part, he just hated it—he hated the idea that a fellow agent that he respected and admired may possibly be injured or dead…

"Finally," Colby pushed ahead with a sigh, "Don's SUV was hit from the left side, impacting on the rear of the driver's side. The vehicle spun sideways and the other car also spun a little ways, as shown by tire tracks at the scene. Then it appears as if Don pulled the witness out of the vehicle from the driver's side, as their assailant began to fire—Don was hit and the girl probably got skimmed on the shoulder by a bullet as she was pulled from the car. Don returned fire, and scored at least one shot on the suspect but what happened next is pretty much guesswork." Colby flipped through the reports, his eyes scanning for pertinent information. "The other car was gone from the scene but that doesn't necessarily mean that they were taken by the suspect…" Colby shook his head when something caught his eye. Hope sparked as he read a particular report of a very thorough investigator.

"Wait a sec—it says here all the things that were in Don's car…"

"So?" David half- growled, looking up at Granger.

"So," Granger continued, "I went with Don when he interviewed the parents of the victims—he took a tape recorder with us so he could keep the time line straight—he kept that tape recorder in his dash, but this report doesn't mention it being there…" Colby trailed off, and David snapped his figures coming to the same conclusion he had.

"If I were Don and was being shot at, I would take the tape recorder, record what I knew, a description, something, then make a run for and try to hide it where someone else could find it!"

"And Don would have even more motive to do this because he told Megan on the phone he had new information he wanted to tell us once he got here!"

"I'll go to the scene and tell the CSI's to spread out their search a couple blocks," David stood up feeling much better, now that they had found something they could actually act on. Colby nodded as David stood up.

"And I'll call Megan and let her know what we came up with. It's a long shot but it's all we've got."

With that, both men set out to complete their separate tasks.

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Megan sat at her desk, her head in her hands, utterly exhausted. The night had been far too long. Sinclair was still searching the area around the accident, despite the fact that Megan had called him and asked the pertinent question of, 'if Don wasn't caught then why hasn't he or the witness turned up?' However David was insistent on continuing, and Megan decided to let him, despite the futility of it, because she heard the rising note of desperation in David's voice. He needed to be doing something, and paperwork just wasn't going to cut it. Granger had gone out an hour before to help David and his futile search. He too, needed to go be on his feet, doing something.

That left Agent Reeves, and her ever-persistent thoughts, alone at her desk in the over-quiet office. It was late and most people had already gone home except for the precious few workaholics that had refused to leave in the light of Agent Eppes' disappearance. She'd gone to the Eppes' residence and told Charlie and Alan that their son was missing. They were crucial in establishing the timeline. The whole incident had taken place only a few miles outside of the residential area where they lived and the fact that Don had been there and left suddenly shortly before the possible abduction, left Megan feeling uneasy and unsettled. Charlie was insistent that he try to help and Megan only managed to put him off until the next morning. She recalled how emotional Charlie had gotten on the last case, involving an abused girl named Libby—Megan hated to think how Charlie was going to handle this case when it involved his brother.

Poor Alan—he'd been in shock. When Megan had told him Don was missing he simply said, 'But where did he go? He only left a few hours ago…' Meanwhile Charlie had just looked shell-shocked until he snapped out of and began to make demands to work on the case, while Alan stared down at his hands, unable to speak. Megan herself was a wreck and at the sight of Alan's blank expression, she'd nearly broken down.

It was she, after all, that had dismissed Don's worry that he was being pursued.

Her self-recriminations came to an abrupt halt however, as both Agent Sinclair and Granger burst into the office, purpose in their stride. Megan stood up quickly knocking over her chair and not caring.

"What did you guys find?" Megan asked as the two men came up to her desk.

"Let's go in the conference room." Colby pointed towards the deserted, and private, room.

Once they were all inside the room, David pulled Don's blood-spattered tape recorder out of the manila evidence envelope.

"The CSI's took fingerprints and blood samples at the scene." David explained, as Megan paled at the sight of the all too prominent blood smears on the tape recorder.

"Well?" Megan asked, "Have you listened to it yet?"

"Nope." Granger replied, "We figured you'd want to hear it right along with us."

With that, David Sinclair's shaky finger pressed 'play' on their last lead to the man that they all respected, and were now desperately trying to find.

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NOTE: oooo cliffhanger! Hehehe I'll be writing more soon, don't worry. There might have been some inaccuracies in some of the procedures and such but I was going more for dramatic effect. Constructive criticism appreciated as well as all other input.


	14. The Tape

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer: **not mine, although I was reading about a case of virtual kidnapping that sounded fascinating…

Warning: Mild Swearing 

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THE TAPE

(The tape recorder starts to play and for a few moments there is silence before Agent Don Eppes speaks.)

_Hey, first off if this isn't the FBI listening, this needs to get to the FBI right away…_

_(Don continues giving the address to the FBI office and the agents involved in the case, still thorough despite the dire situation.)_

_(Don's voice is strained, fraught with ragged gasps—in the background a small female voice can be occasionally heard, but what she actually says isn't intelligible. Don and the witness's footsteps are heard throughout the tape; sometimes they are running and then only Don's labored breathing is heard, other times they walking and Don is speaking, but they never stop moving.)_

_(After a moment)_

_Hey guys, I hope I can manage to get out of this damn mess before you guys find this…this is a last ditch attempt to tell you guys what I need to…_

_(Long pause, the shifting of gravel underneath feet is heard)_

_The killer…it's Jadie's mother…she doesn't know her mothers whole name only that her first name is Nadine. She a Caucasian woman, large build, at least six feet tall, short blond hair, extremely well muscled…_

_(Another pause, Don and Jadie's footsteps are heard picking up speed, and Don is swearing under his breath. He continues speaking, his voice hushed and gravelly with weariness.)_

_Dammit…she's…that psychotic bitch is trying to find us…following us in her damn car…I don't think she actually see us but she's too close for comfort… I…dammit…it's a stretch but I think she's had military training…if not she's done this many times before…she's no amateur…_

_(Here there is a long silence, Don and Jadie can be heard running and stopping then running again. Don's breathing develops a wet sounding hitch, as if there's fluid in his lungs and there is now periodic coughing, muffled by probably a hand or an arm. Finally after a few minutes that drag by like years Don and the witness stop and Don breaths heavily for several moments, catching his breath, before speaking again.)_

_I…I'm not so sure that the two of us are going to make it through this…I…it's strange…I think the kid…Jadie…I think she's been ready for it to come down to this for…a long time now…and now I'm not so sure if I'm ready for the possibilities…I…_

_(Don laughs softly here. There is no humor in it…it is wry and tinged with regret. It is the laugh of a condemned man.)_

_I sure as hell hadn't planned on dying today…I wouldn't have…_

_(Don's voice develops a catch, like he's on the verge of tears, he continues speaking, his voice now thick with emotion.)_

_I wouldn't have left things the way I did with dad and Charlie…I…tell them I said I'm sorry…for everything…_

_(Don's footsteps falter here, and his voice is faint when he finally does continue speaking.)_

_Dad, I love you so much…and Charlie, I love you too and I'm sorry that …that I treat you like a kid sometimes…and that sometimes …I do that because I don't want to look and see that you weren't just my genius kid brother anymore but a …perfectly capable man…and I just wanted to make sure you stayed safe…I guess it was the older brother in me that didn't want to see you have to deal with the stuff I do…I'm so sorry…you meant more me than I ever told you and I never said that I was proud of you…and I am Charlie, I always will be…_

_(Another long silence; Don's breathing is becoming more and more shaky. It sounds like he might be crying, but it isn't clear. A short time later Don takes a couple deep breaths and when he continues his voice is still strained and his breathing is still labored but there is a determined air to it now.)_

_I'm going to keep moving and try to lose this bitch…I'm not dead yet and I don't plan on giving up._

_(Don's voice picks up a hint of anger here.)_

_I'll try to make it to the office…better yet a hospital…both me and the girl need a little patching up…until then we gotta keep moving…this bitch is relentless…she's more than prepared to kill me and Jadie and make a run for it…_

_(Jadie is heard hushing Don with a frantic 'shhh'…Don takes shallower breaths and is as quiet as he can be and Jadie isn't heard at all. Distant in the background, the faint murmur of a running engine is heard and another voice is barely heard although it's clearly yelling, it's coming from a long way away. It's female voice and it sounds like she's calling for her 'little toy' and her 'toy's new guard dog.' It's a cruel and merciless voice, containing no emotion. After several minutes, the voice fades and Don lets out a shaky sigh of relief.)_

_She's driving a …a black Buick…I can't see the plates…_

_(Don's voice fills with sarcasm.)_

…_Nice car for a killer…must have a good day job…_

_(A long silence. Don's footsteps are becoming more irregular, and Jadie's light steps are heard more clearly as if she's walking right next to Don, trying to make sure that he doesn't collapse.)_

_(Don speaks once more.)_

_Well, I guess that's all the pertinent information…Megan…David…Colby…you guys are all damn good agents…make sure this bitch doesn't get away…I hope you guys don't have to listen to this…I hope that I can back before…you find this…and …_

_(Don's breath catches again, and he grunts in pain.)_

_(A humorless chuckle escapes from Don.)_

_I guess…this might be goodbye…I hope not…but just in case…don't blame yourselves…if this ends bad…and don't let Charlie or my dad blame themselves either…nothing they could…have…done…_

_(One final pause.)_

_I love you guys…_

_(Don's voice trails off…)_

_(The tape recorder stops.)_

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NOTE: how cruel am I? Very much…I like to keep you on the edge of your seats…muh-hahahaha


	15. Stars

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine and all that jazz.

**A/N:** Ok I meant to have this written and posted Wednesday night but Wednesday afternoon right after I posted the last chapter I went out to run some errands and wrecked my car. Slush is not my friend. I luckily walked away from the accident with only a few scrapes but as it's my first accident, it's taken me a couple days to really feel up to doing much of anything. Sorry for the delay!

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CHAPTER 15: Stars—"… _a reminder of future hope and past nightmares_…"

The tape ended with a small _click_ into the all-encompassing silence. Megan's face was drained of all color and she sat in shock, numbly looking at the tape recorder, the bearer of such a desperate message. Colby sat across the table from her, appearing to be extremely uncomfortable, his eyes were fixed sideways down at the floor, looking but not really seeing.

David felt himself want to move into denial, that no, it wasn't over yet—and then with surprising ease, he let himself do just that. It was an easy decision—he would be able to act best if he still believed that Don had a chance. And there was a chance, albeit a small one, that Don would be ok—and that, _that_, David thought, _is what I have to act on._

David broke the frigid silence, demandingly and with determination.

"OK, Don is in some serious trouble here," David began as Colby and Megan both snapped their attention to David, "We need to find that car, our suspect and Don," David paused taking in the defeated appearance of both Megan and Colby, "We aren't going to find them if we sit around here thinking about how screwed up this is—this isn't over yet so don't you act like it is…" David spoke angrily and was rewarded with renewed determination from Colby and a defiant look from Megan.

"Right," Colby nodded, "I'll get going on that car—see how many registered Buicks there are and how many are registered to six foot blonds named Nadine…"

"And I'll take looking for the suspect; I'll check all the databases and pull all the crooks who fit that description—if we're lucky she'll have a record." Megan stood up.

"I'll widen the search for Don and the witness—depending on how seriously injured Don is, he may have gotten to a hospital but had been unable to provide his identification—his wallet and badge were left in the SUV." David looked at the two other agents in the eyes and nodded a last time.

"Let's go."

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Don stopped in the side alley, his hand clutching the gunshot wound on the right side of his chest. If it had been one more inch to the right, it would have just skimmed him, but luck had not been with Don. He leaned against the rusty red brick wall, gasping for air, feeling fluid in his lungs and he knew that the bullet had probably nicked his lung. Don glanced down at his stoic companion.

Jadie had moved into survival mode—she was no longer the same traumatized girl that Don had met at the FBI office. She was the prey of a deadly hunter, and she knew it. Her eyes were always moving and she was fully alert. Her emotions that had begun to resurface under Don's compassionate care were now all but shut down. The only hint of emotion hat Don saw now was when she reached to support him when he stumbled, weak and weary from blood loss.

Don leaned his head back against the wall and felt the grainy texture of the cold brick against his head. He closed his eyes. They had been moving all afternoon and most of the night, sticking to back alleyways, hemmed in by the ruthless killer that pursued them. Don was almost positive that they had lost the damned Buick now, but he still wasn't sure whether he wanted to risk moving out in the open. He knew that if he were wrong, the bitch wouldn't hesitate to blow both him and the child away. Don couldn't even defend them—he'd run out of ammunition during the gunfight at the intersection. Even so, they were dangerous to her now, and she wouldn't stop for anything until the threat they posed was eliminated.

Don opened his eyes and studied Jadie's appearance. A bullet had grazed her right shoulder and her clothes were now grungy and worn, their obscene colors now dulled in a short length of time. Her small face was pure animal instinct, like a loyal retriever, she followed him without question, her senses always alert for danger.

Don attempted to stand but then fell back against the wall—his strength was fading rapidly. Jadie stood beside him, offering her left shoulder as support as she had done periodically during their flight, when Don felt dizzy or weak. This made up Don's mind. He had to make sure Jadie made it out of all this alive. She trusted him and he would be damned if he was going to let her down. Don pushed himself off the wall once more and put his right hand on Jadie's uninjured shoulder. She supported him for the first few steps until the weakness passed then Don took her hand in his and led her down the winding alleyways, trying not to let fear pervade his chest as he noted that the stars gleamed distantly above them, nearly invisible to an observer on the city street, a reminder of future hope and past nightmares.

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**A/N:** Short chapter I know, I'm still working on exactly how I want to end this fic, but I felt bad leaving you guys in suspense like I did so I had to write at least a little something. Might be a couple days before the next chapter or two is posted, I'll try not to take too long. Anyway please R&R!


	16. Praying

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, but I'm putting them on my holiday wish list…

WARNING: Swearing

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CHAPTER 16: Praying—"… _and still, he ran_…"

David walked into the hospital; the dull sound of his shoes on the tiles was obnoxious to him as he moved towards the front desk. He'd been to several hospitals already and this was one of the last few. David had almost given up all hope of finding Don in a hospital, thinking that it was more likely that he should be preparing a body bag, maybe even two; one for the witness, and one for Don.

David approached the red-haired nurse at the desk—she was wearing green scrubs and looked like she would have much rather been somewhere else.

"Hello," David forced a smile as he flashed his badge, and pulled out a photo of Don, "Have you seen this man?" The nurse studied it with a nonchalant glance and David felt like he wanted to punch her, however her next words stopped any anger he might have had.

"Oh, sure" She snapped her gum, "He came it a couple minutes ago with a kid—we put 'em in separate rooms 'cause he had more serious injuries. Last I heard though he was ranting about something, giving the doctors a rough time."

"And what room was this man put in," David spoke, his voice strained.

"Umm, humm…" the nurse clicked a couple keys with her gaudy pink stick-on fingernails on a nearby computer, all the while David's mind was screaming and all he wanted to do was jump the desk and throttle the life out of the woman. "Oh, here it is," she snapped her gum again, "Room 37, it's just down the hall there." She leaned forward and pointed, and David took off half shouting, "Thank You!" as he went.

The white washed hallway glared at David and every part of him was screeching _faster, faster_. He jogged the last distance to the room as he heard a familiar voice.

"Don!" David rounded the corner into the room, straight into a very interesting scene. There Don stood; one hand over a bloody gunshot wound on the side of his chest, looking pale and not so steady on his feet; and across from him stood three nurses and a doctor. Blood was all over Don's clothes and hands; there was even some smeared on his brow where it looked like he had wiped away perspiration only to replace it with his blood.

At the sound of his name Don turned his head towards the door, and with missing a beat, spoke with a hoarse voice.

"Hey David, these bastards won't listen to me—maybe you can help me out here—apparently since I've lost a lot of blood I'm not thinking straight."

"Don," David said with concern and no small degree of incredulity, "you've been shot—you need to let the doctor do his job!" David walked over towards Don, reaching out to support him with a hand, which Don abruptly smacked away, stunning David.

"You don't get it," Don's eyes were clear despite the fact he looked like hell warmed over, "I think that psychotic bitch followed us in here…" David immediately went into full alert, drawing his gun and looking directly at Don. Just then the doctor decided that he needed to speak up.

"Listen gentlemen, I don't know what's going on here but I'm sure hospital security can handle whoever…"

"Sir," David interrupted him, pulling out his badge, "This man and I are FBI agents and there is a good chance that a highly dangerous serial killer is in the hospital…"

The nurses all gasped and the doctor paled slightly, his mouth gaping like a fish.

"This is why I need to keep the girl nearby…" Don spoke intently, and David gave him a questioning look.

"When I got in here, I thought that the killer might have been following me, but I guess I looked worse than I thought—they snagged up Jadie and moved her to another room as they pulled me down the hallway, yelling for a gurney before I started to raise hell—I…I…don't think I was thinking very clearly I just kept trying to tell them that it was important the girl stay with me…" Don trailed off helplessly. David just nodded, then remembering something, he pulled Don's now reloaded pistol from the back of his belt and handed it to Don.

"Just in case." Don looked grateful at David's consideration.

Meanwhile, the doctor had called hospital security, the local police and was trying to reach the FBI headquarters. David turned to ask Don what room Jadie was in, when suddenly a shrill scream filled the air. David took one glance at Don and knew that it was Jadie by the stricken panic that passed over Don's face.

David raced towards the door, and the only one out of the door faster than him, was Don.

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Don ran as fast as he could, his lungs screaming at him for air as his ragged gasps blared in his ears; pain was lancing out from his wound and his whole body ached from blood loss. And still, he ran—praying all the while that this would be different—that this would be his redemption, his redemption from the nightmare that plagued him night after night.

_Please God, _Don prayed, _don't let me be too late._

Don rounded the corner and slid to a halt, hearing David yelling behind him 'FBI!' and he raised his weapon. There, their serial killer—The Sadist—was standing in the hallway holding Jadie up against her by her neck. Jadie was facing then, her expression completely blank, focusing completely on getting the precious little air that she was allowed from the monstrosity that held her hostage.

"Put the girl down!" Don yelled, aiming his weapon. David was speaking—protocol hostage negotiation, no doubt—but as Don looked directly into the ice blue, unflinching and unfeeling eyes of the killer, Don knew that it was between him and her. Don studied her, this psycho that preyed on children. She wore a gray turtleneck shirt; the shoulder of it was torn and drenched in blood where Don had shot her earlier. She also had on tan pants, similar to the breeches that some horse-riders wore; and finally meticulously shined black boots that came up to her knees. Her face sent chills down Don's spine, Her face was an alabaster white, unhealthily pale, her stringy blond hair coming down in her face down to just below her chin making her look incredibly animal-like. Her blue eyes were rabid, freezing blue. They were not the eyes of a sane person.

"Oh," The woman spoke in a cold flippant voice, "Has the little toy's guard dog decided that he wants to play?" She giggled, an unnatural sound, and Don winced.

"Put…the…girl…down…"Don annunciated each word, his vision blurring from fatigue and he prayed that he was holding the gun steady.

"He's got his hackles up doesn't he?" The blond woman murmured into Jadie's ear, seemingly oblivious to the tears that were running down her face. Slowly, the killer raised he other hand and with one of her pointed fingernails, she scratched Jadie along the jaw and smiled maliciously at Don's horrified expression as she licked the blood from her daughter's jaw line.

Suddenly she dropped Jadie to the floor, and before Don knew what was happening, she tackled him to the floor. Don tried to push her weight off of him, but was too weak to do so. He heard David yelling and vaguely realized he was trying to pull the woman off of him, but to no avail. Don could feel her sticky warm breath on his face and he felt like he was being suffocated by the stagnant smell. She was like a feral animal, attacking her prey. Don felt as her hand found his wounds and Don heard himself screaming as she dug her finger into the bullet wound, giggling.

Suddenly the weight of the killer's body was off of Don. He dragged himself over to the wall, only vaguely realizing that David and hospital security had restrained the screaming psychotic killer.

As Don's the edges of Don's vision began to turn black, he felt a small body curl up next to him. Realizing it was Jadie, Don cradled his arm around her and began to murmur reassurances.

" 's ok, you're safe." Don mumbled over and over until he heard the child's sobbing cease.

Then, Don's vision momentarily cleared before everything went black.

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A/N: Ok sorry I meant to have this posted earlier today, but I had some things to go take care of. Ah, well—its getting down to it now—one more chapter plus a short epilogue, oh and I'm also going to tack on a little voting thing at the end. I have three ideas for my next fic—I'll let you guys decide what it'll be :-) Anyway R&R


	17. Unfinished

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** not mine

**A/N:** Ok first off, it was pure coincidence that the killer's name, Nadine is the same as Don's new love interest on the show. That being said, I don't really care for that particular character and maybe this was my subconscious acting out:P Nadine seemed like a good name for the killer at the time—my bad. Second, I just want to send out a general thank you to all my reviewers—you guys make writing this so rewarding! Oh and anything medical or official type things that I mention in this chapter—all made up to my own little rules—its most likely inaccurate –please try not to raise too much hell. Anyway, blah blah blah, here's the next chapter!

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CHAPTER 17: Unfinished—"… _something just wasn't over…"_

Don groggily opened his eyes to find the fluorescent lights of the hospital room glaring back at him. Momentarily he wondered what had transpired before the flood of memory came rushing back. He couldn't remember whether of not David got the killer, but he supposed he was probably already officially taking more than just a few days off, whether he liked it or not, and it wasn't his problem—so to speak. Besides, Sinclair, Reeves and Granger were all good agents—they could handle themselves.

Don shifted his weight, _damn hospital beds, so uncomfortable, _and noticed a warmth next to him.

'Lo and behold, a certain small figure was curled up next to him on the bed. Don tenderly began moving a few strands of hair from her slumbering face when someone else in the room, someone Don hadn't noticed, spoke.

"She wouldn't stay in her own room," Alan spoke from the other side of the bed. Don looked over at his father—Alan smiled wearily at his son and as Don's eyes found Charlie's sleeping form in the chair next to Alan, both men shared a chuckle.

Charlie's head was tilted all the way back on the chair, his mouth opened slightly, periodically issuing faint snores.

"Jadie," Alan continued speaking softly, looking at the peacefully sleeping child, "…refused to stay in her own room—kept sneaking over here until finally they just let her stay."

"How long have I been out?" Don queried, rubbing the grit from his eyes.

"Oh, about a day and a half. They did a couple blood transfusions because of blood loss but they say now you should be just fine." Alan leaned forward and took hold of Don's hand. "You gave us quite a scare you know…" Alan gave Don a crooked smile, and Don could see the bags under his father's eyes.

"Dad, you look beat," Don spoke softly, "Why don't you go ahead and rouse sleeping beauty there, go home and rest up—I'm not going anywhere." Don gave Alan's hand a gentle squeeze, and Alan nodded reluctantly.

"Charlie…"Alan shook Charlie's shoulder gently. Don felt himself start to grin as Alan progressively raised his voice and shook Charlie a little harder each time. Alan turned to Don as Charlie snorted in his sleep and shifted his weight in the chair in his father's latest attempts to wake him.

"It's like trying to raise the dead!" Alan exclaimed, exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. Don laughed and signaled for his father to hand him a pen from a nearby table that was just out of his reach. Grinning, Don took careful aim…

"Yo, Charlie!" Don called as he threw the pen. Charlie jumped as the pen bounced off his forehead with a small _smack._

"Wha…?" Charlie groggily asked as he almost fell out of his chair.

"Charlie," Alan began, with his 'fathering' voice, "Don's awake and ok, we're going to go home and get some sleep."

"Don?" Charlie looked at Don, his eyes fuzzy and still clearly not awake, he grinned. "You ok then?" Charlie mumbled.

"Yeah buddy, I'm fine—go home and get some sleep, alright?" Don said with a smile. Charlie nodded, smiling contentedly, and allowed Alan to lead his from the hospital room. Don settled down on the bed chuckling as he watched his father shake his head at Charlie in mock disgust, but the faint smile on his lips gave him away as to what he was really thinking.

Don peered down at the small girl who had not stirred during the entire exchange between him and his family but rather, slept soundly; as if she had no doubt that she was safe. Don wondered, with a pang in his chest, what was going to happen to her now?

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**One month later**

Don sat back on the couch at his brother's house and heaved a huge sigh. The court case involving the Sadist had now come to a close. The FBI had managed to track down an entire roster of victims that the sociopathic woman had killed and they conveniently had her tried in a state that allowed the death penalty. It was no surprise that she got it. Jadie testified at preliminary hearings, doing surprisingly well, but it was determined that it wasn't necessary that she attend the trial. Instead, they recorded her account of events and sent the tape in to be reviewed by the jury. They had made an exception for her, allowing her to not testify at the trial, but in all actuality it was the only was they could get her statement. She refused to talk unless Don was present and Don was still not in good enough shape to make the trip to the trial.

Don leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The case was over now but, something, something just wasn't _over._ Don had a feeling that something was unfinished.

"Hey Don…Are you feeling ok?" Charlie's concerned voice suddenly entered the room, startling Don, causing him to snap his head in Charlie's direction.

"Fine…I feel…fine." Don felt like hell, truth be told, but he wasn't admitting that to his younger brother.

"You don't look fine…"Charlie peered at his brother's weary face as he sat down next to him on the couch. "Something you want to talk about?"

"No." Don answered too quickly, shaking his head.

"So…by 'no'…you really mean 'yes' right?" Charlie's face tilted and he developed a half-smile. "Is it the fact that Jadie wound up in an orphanage that's bugging you?" Charlie asked seriously.

"No…"Don winced at the gruff sound of his own voice before he relented, "Ok, yes but I know it's illogical…"Don raked his hand through his hair, "I know that it's the best orphanage in the state and that she needs to be there because they specialize in taking care of traumatized children but I still feel like I let her down or something." Don rubbed his hand over his face, then leaned and rested his chin in his hand.

"Don," Charlie started gently, "It's sounds like you're trying to convince yourself…and there's _no reason_ for you to feel guilty…she's in good hands now." Charlie placed a reassuring hand on his brother's back.

"I know but…" Don hesitated, "I know that she felt safe with me, she _trusted_ me and I feel that I've betrayed her in some way, putting her in the orphanage." A thought entered Don's mind, and he began to mull it over, thinking about the different angles trying to find the flaws.

"Oh, well," Don spoke with sudden, and feigned casualness; he wanted Charlie's opinion and depending on what it was, it would make up Don's mind on his certain thought. "…I'm not really great with kids anyway…She's better off with them…" Don trailed off—either Charlie would nod and agree that it was for best, or he wouldn't agree…

"Don!" Charlie exclaimed, "You're great with kids!" Charlie reacted, saying what he felt was the absolute truth without a second thought. "What are you thinking? You did great with Jadie!" Charlie looked at Don, confused not only by the change in Don's attitude but also at Don's apparent lack of confidence in dealing with children. Don smiled, _that decides it, _he thought.

"Thanks Charlie, you just helped me make up my mind about something," Don patted Charlie's leg, got up and grabbed his coat, moving towards the door. "I'll be back in a little while—I've got something I've got to go do!" Don closed the front door behind him, moving with utter certainty and purpose, leaving a puzzled Charlie in his wake.

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A/N: And now for the finale…


	18. Epilogue

**Jadie**

**Disclaimer:** don't own 'em, wish I did, ect ect

**A/N:** Ah, here's the ending that I know you all have been dying to read! Thank you for all your reviews and be sure to read the additional: 'Reviewers vote' section where I'll let YOU, the reviewers, choose the next fic I write, from three different ideas I have! Enjoy the Epilogue! (Ps, once again, may be inaccurate info about certain things, I'm shooting from the hip here, cut me some slack)

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Epilogue—"…_she was going home…"_

Jadie sat in the lounge to the orphanage. She didn't even know that orphanages had lounges, but this one did. They told her (_the strange people_) that someone (_stranger_) had wanted to adopt her even though she hadn't finished going through therapy, what they (_the strange people_) told her was her 'rehabilitation to normal life.' (_Still Broken_.)

Jadie was scared. She stared down at her new sneakers that were an abrasive shade of pink and thought (_the nice man would have smiled_). She was afraid of the someone who adopted her (_stranger_) and all she wanted was to see Don (_the nice man_) again. She knew that he (_Don_) would keep her safe (_from scary things, and bad dreams_). She stared at the floor as she heard the door (_front door, stranger_) open, and she tried to fight back the tears (_Don would want her to be strong, she would be ok now_). She heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps and she heard them stop near her (_not looking, scared_). Jadie sat, unmoving waiting for the person (_stranger_) to speak but the silence grew longer and Jadie thought more and more about what she wanted (_don't want to go, want to be safe_.)

Suddenly a familiar voice made Jadie's heart jump.

"Hey kiddo, why the sad face?"

Jadie, startled (_what?_) looked up and straight into the caring eyes of Don Eppes. Jadie felt herself smile (_a real smile_) and she leaped to her feet and grabbed Don around the waist in a fierce little hug (_no stranger_).

Don chuckled and smoothed her hair back.

"That's a nice grip you got there, careful of the side though—it's still a little tender." Jadie nodded (_remembered_) and she looked up at him with an intent gaze on her face.

" 'm not ever letting go." She announced and was rewarded as Don's face lit up in a huge grin.

"Is that so?" Don asked matter-of-factly.

"Yes." Jadie answered in a little, yet stubborn voice.

"Well, ok then." Don reached over with one hand and picked up Jadie's bag, and then began to start to drag the small child around his waist towards the door. Jadie giggled, a sweet sound, and wrapped both her skinny little legs around Don's right leg and held on.

"You aren't making this easy are you?" Don muttered in mock frustration. She knew he wasn't _really _annoyed and she giggled louder. "How about you never let go of my hand? That'll be easier." Jadie pretended to think it over.

"Ok!" She detached herself from Don's leg and latched onto his hand.

"That's better" Don said with a smile.

Don led her out of the building, and finally Jadie truly knew what it was to be happy—to be loved—something she hadn't experienced before. She smiled, and knew that things would be good from now on, maybe not perfect, things were never perfect, but things would be good.

She was going home.

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A/N: Ta-Da! Am I good, or am I good? I hope you all enjoyed this fic!


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